


Fortune’s Favorite

by hanjisungsslut



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Based loosely on Kakegurui, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Gamblers, Gambling, Gang Violence, Han Jisung | Han & Yoo Jeongyeon are Siblings, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Heavily Plot Based, It’s a gang au, Lee Minho | Lee Know & Yang Jeongin | I.N are Siblings, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of homicide, Money, Plot Based, Queerplatonic Relationships, Trans Yang Jeongin | I.N, guns and knives, lots of gambling, partners, typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 62,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanjisungsslut/pseuds/hanjisungsslut
Summary: In a city where your status is dependent on what you can bring to the betting table, two powerful gangs rule the streets with iron fists. The Aces are notorious, powerful and ruthless. The Strays are dangerous, vengeful and unpredictable.In a desperate search to uncover the mystery of his sisters disappearance, Han Jisung finds himself among the ranks of one of these gangs. With a stoic wall of a partner, a fearless leader and more than one eccentric associate in crime, he will uncover a scheme far greater than what he’s bargained for.To win the game, he has to bet it all and play his hand at being fortune’s next favorite.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 29
Kudos: 122





	1. The Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> Long authors note ahead!!  
> Hello everyone, I hope you’re all doing well, I’m back with another fic! I would like to go ahead and give y’all TW/CWs:
> 
> \- blood  
> \- gambling  
> \- death  
> \- violence  
> \- cops  
> \- guns
> 
> These are just some of the warnings, please be mindful that this is a bit more mature theme than what I usually do and most aspects will be morally gray. I would also like to say this is not the way I envision the real people to be, I do not envision them in any way that aligns with fiction writings. I need you guys to understand something. When I write, it is to gauge how people would like it if I turned it into an ACTUAL novel. I use names we all know for exposure purposes. My brain was able to create 6 other people to live inside my body, it can separate fiction and reality. I respect SKZ and never want to put them in jeopardy. You may not like fics, that is okay, but nothing in mine is reason to be concerned. I also do not take criticism as I am writing for free.
> 
> Formalities aside, this is a four part piece! I ask that you be patient, but updates will be fairly speedy! This is also tagged with both POVs, they will alternate further in the story. Without further ado, Fortune's Favorite:

You’ve got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?

There’s three outcomes in every situation. 

There’s the good. The ideal outcome. In every situation, there’s a positive way to end things. The good is the mark of the lucky.

There’s the bad. The worst outcome. The most negative of the negative endings you could think of. The bad is the mark of the damned.

Then, there’s the ugly. The mark of the morally ambiguous. It’s neither good nor bad, because such words are too subjective to have proper meaning. Things end. That’s all there is.

The Anglo-Saxons held theories of Fortune, and her wheel. They believed she spun it for each of them and whatever it landed on was their fate. They blamed her, mocked her. But when the time came that they felt their wheel might spin again, they worshipped her, praised her. But Fortune is never predictable nor consistent. She doesn’t have control over her wheel.

It’s all up to luck.

Gambling these days is nothing like it was meant to be. People rig their games, they cheat and they are obsessed with money and benefit from their gambles. No one gambles for the craft, no one wants to be  _ good  _ or  _ lucky,  _ they just want their prize. To hell with how they obtain it.

But gambling was meant to be so much more. It was meant to rely on Fortune and her wheel of luck directly. Some were lucky enough to get a good hand and win it all, some were damned enough to lose everything at the hands of a card. With so many liars, cheaters and greedy players, it’s no longer about the luck of the gamble. 

In gambling, true gambling, there is one question you must ask yourself: Do I feel lucky?

There are hardly any true gamblers around, hardly any who don’t lie or cheat or rig their games. But scarcity is not synonymous with extinction. 

It was known widely throughout the city Han Jisung grew up in that true gambling is making a comeback among the local organizations. That’s the nice way to put it, “local organizations.” Because nobody wants to say gang anymore. It’s too harsh.

Perhaps such a cliche name as “The Aces” is a dead giveaway to their activities, but to Jisung, it’s a good way to be straight to the point. The Aces are always straight to the point.

True gambling isn’t just card games and chips and endless amounts of money to spend. True gambling is about the risk, the trying of your luck, betting your life on Fortune’s wheel. That’s what the Aces are all about. 

He should’ve known better.

When money was tight and the rent was due all too soon, he should’ve pieced together how that money magically appeared in their bank account overnight. He should have questioned his sister’s new job, should have demanded to know what kind of retail job would give her two thousand dollars for one day of work. But he did not. He never did.

That was his first mistake of many.

He should’ve questioned the late nights and the bruises she came home with often, the way her fingertips were always cut or rubbed raw. He should’ve questioned how the money only grew. But Jeongyeon always assured him the job was just really well-paying and there was nothing shady going on. And like a fool, he believed every word from her mouth.

That was his second mistake.

He should’ve questioned the loud arguments over the phone or the growing absences from school and home. He should have listened when the rumors of his older sister began to circulate, but he didn’t dare entertain the thought for even a second back then. Because there was no way Jeongyeon was an Ace.

That was his third and final mistake. The deadliest of them all.

+++

The gear shift slides into park as Jisung lets out a long concealed sigh. The streets are bare when his eyes flicker across the street, the nightfall offers them their only peace at this time. Only the streets never sleep, they just welcome a new crowd with open arms.

He slides out of the car, a sleek and black top model that he’s milking for every penny it’s worth, and crosses the now abandoned asphalt. It’s dangerous to come here, but danger is beginning to feel like a medicine he's taken for too long. It doesn’t affect him anymore.

The high chime of a bell rings out from over his head as he enters the video store. The shelves are stocked with the latest movies and shows, though there hasn’t been a person to come looking for movies in awhile. Jisung doesn’t bother pretending as he slides past the counter and into the back room.

“He didn’t show.” He says as a form of greeting to the man behind a mahogany desk. Eyes far too kind for this line of work meet his over the brim of a coffee mug. He was expected back. 

“I told you there was a high probability he wouldn’t.” The owner of those kind eyes replies, “Really, Jisung, I think you should switch partners. Seungmin is just as equipped and qualified.”

“We wouldn’t have to switch if my partner would just show up.” The bite in his voice is not intended for the man behind the desk, who raises an eyebrow at his vocal irritation, “Why is he being so difficult?”

“I’m afraid that is just how he is, Jisung. I’ll introduce you to Seungmin on Monday.” A pen is already scribbling across a notepad as the words leave the man’s mouth, but Jisung’s stubbornness does not allow him to accept the defeat on his tongue.

“No need. If my partner doesn’t want to show up, then I’ll go find him and bring the briefing to  _ him. _ ” There is ice within his words, and though the man in front of him has only known him for a week and a half, he sighs as if he’s known him a lifetime.

“I’ll see you Monday, with my partner in tow, Chan.” 

“You don’t even know where he is, Jisung.” Chan calls out to him, voice falling just the slightest bit flat at the end. Jisung tosses a glance over his shoulder, poorly hidden smirk painting his lips.

“I’ll find him.” 

The bell overhead chimes once more as he exits the shop, determination setting into his bones. The air in the car is on full-blast, cold. He had prepared for this ever since he heard the rumors about his walking difficulty of a partner. 

A yellow office file tucked under his front seat contains everything he needs. 

His partner is evasive, a shadow in the back alleys. He is a faceless figure who wears death on his chest. But Jisung is resourceful and head strong. He won’t let his one shot be taken away by some superiority complex prick. 

When Jisung was picked up off the streets no more than three months ago, he was thrust into an entirely new life within the span of a few hours. The Aces run their city from the underground to the penthouses, their members stretched far and wide, any and every face could belong to them. But the Aces aren’t the only organization moving in the night.

A lesser known group, known only by those who have gotten personal with the streets, controls the outskirts of the underground. They don’t equate to the Aces in numbers, nor do they equate in assets, but they do equate on the most important level of all. Their love for the game is only matched by the best of the best gamblers.

When the police had proved their incompetence and Jisung took matters into his own hands, he knew the only way to find her was to retrace his sister’s footsteps. Thus, Jisung began his gamble.

He didn’t seek out the Aces. 

Her intimate knowledge of the gang’s inner-workings led to Jeongyeon’s paranoia. She gripped Jisung by the shoulders in an iron grip, made him swear never to get involved with the Aces, never to play at the same table as an Ace and never,  _ ever  _ challenge an Ace.

Her warning could have easily been applied to organized crime as a whole, the way it was supposed to be, about the gamblers and the scum that roamed the streets regardless of affiliation, but he took her advice as literally as he could. He didn’t look for the Aces. 

Instead, he looked for the  _ others.  _

The streets didn’t call the others by name, only whispered their aliases in the darkest hours of the night in hopes of it never reaching the ears of an Ace. There wasn’t a rivalry yet, for the Aces would not dare let a group as unorganized as the Others be considered their rival. No one dared to speak the name of a group so damned by Fortune’s wheel.

The rivals of the Aces were Jisung’s only shot. And live or die trying, he was going to use it.

He had Chaeryeong in the back of his pocket, an old friend from high school who served as his private eye for the weeks leading up to where he was now. It was difficult to gather information on a group so discreet, so unknown. One little lead was all they had and Chaeryeong followed it all the way to the jackpot.

The Strays are led by Bang Chan, known best by the streets as the Wolf of Wilkson’s Way. The gang operates out of Chan’s video rental store, a nook of a shop hidden beneath the flashing lights of the surrounding restaurants and the noise of businesses on Wilkson’s Way. Hidden in plain sight.

He challenged Chan to a game, a russian roulette of sorts. Chan chose between two machines, one was rigged and could no harm, the other would take off their fingers should the right wire be cut. As each of the eleven strings were cut, the stakes grew. On the final string, it was Jisung’s turn again, and he turned to look at Chan.

“Do you feel lucky?” He snapped the string.

Chan made him prove himself for a week, one game every day. The winner was to decide Jisung’s place within their organization. He bet his life on a gamble.

He won four to three. 

Instead of being placed among the outer rings, Chan placed Jisung in the most dangerous place. He wanted to see Jisung in the field, wanted to see what a gamble like that could cost. The inner circle welcomed him without anything more than a few snarls and raised eyebrows. It was as warm a welcome as he’d expect from gang members. He was sure they would warm up to him.

Except for his new partner.

The Strays have a system. Senior agents train the young recruits, until they have what it takes to be set free. Rumor has it, Jisung’s partner is a skilled agent, excelling in combat and mastery of several weapons. But, he’s a reckless gambler. He’s all or nothing, complete win or complete loss and his respect for the game is almost laughable. 

Jisung never met the guy. He was supposed to come to the last three meetings scheduled for them, but he never showed. Every time he mentions it to Chan, the older gives him a look too close to pity and requests that he change partners. 

“He’s difficult,” Chan will say, “he never follows the rules well, I was the fool to think he would do it this time.” 

The Rolling Eights is the nicest and most lavish club on the west side. Celebrity appearances are a nightly occurrence, the drinks are all top shelf and the couches made from velvet and leather. The club is sectioned off, only the customers paying top dollar would get to see all of it. 

The main part of the club consists of a stage, a dance floor and a bar on either side. Just beyond the curtains on the outer edges of the dance floor, the VIP section is roped off with a private bar and luxury furniture. Behind the stage, a large room made for gambling with big money. 

Then there was the upstairs. The upstairs has only ever been seen by club staff and the most elite names within their city. Only the richest of the rich knows what is beyond those walls. 

The Rolling Eights is the ideal place for a drink, a gamble, maybe a smoke. However, none of those things make The Rolling Eights the ideal place for the Strays. What makes it the ideal place for the Strays is the amount of Aces that frequent the building. 

That is exactly why the Strays took matter into their own hands. 

Jisung stands on the outs of the dance floor, pocket of his jacket weighing down as he observes the scene. There is music louder than any he's heard before, so loud he has the urge to cover his ears. Waiters weave through drunken bodies with balanced trays on their palms, empty glasses in their hands. The lights are too dim to make out any faces. He’s only looking for one.

Money flies over the bar, clutched in the sweaty palms of club go-ers who are already too drunk to stand. Behind the bar, the two working bartenders greet their customers with smiles that are almost believable. Jisung instinctively catches a girl that falls back when she loses balance. 

The corner of the bar is deserted, more than likely due to it being the least effective place to get noticed. Jisung patiently waits there.

His presence must set the bartender's nerves on edge, because the one on the far end meets his eye within seconds and leans over to whisper something to the other. Two pairs of eyes stare at him before the man closest to him approaches.

“Angel shot, neat.” A stack of twenties from his pocket slide across the counter, right under the bartender’s waiting palm. 

“Blue or red?”

“Blue.” 

The bartender pours a typical tequila shot and places the glass on a napkin. No conversation is attempted with the business transaction over. Jisung downs the shot in one go, slipping the small white square tapped to the bottom of his glass in his pocket. 

_ “P3L”  _ is written in quick scrawl. 

He rids the glass of his prints and DNA and leaves it by the bar. 

There’s a bouncer at the curtain’s edge when he attempts to slip past. A hand is placed on his chest. The slip of paper makes its way between the bouncer’s fingers, waiting as his eyes float toward the bar, where the same bartender gives a discreet and curt nod. 

“Welcome to the VIP section.” 

Velvet chairs and leather couches, surrounded by the low orange and red lights make the room. It smells of citrus and cigar smoke, the odor burned into the fabric and latching on like glue. The private bar stretches the left wall, lit up with blue and purple lights. He waits silently on the couch for exactly seven minutes. 

The door in the back of the room, marked “Authorized Personnel Only,” opens to reveal a man in pink. His hands push through the beads hanging from the ceiling.

Jisung studied his picture for hours, but he still doesn’t recognize the man who stands before him. Sharp features that can’t possibly be captured by a screen fix him with their most condescending smile. His eyes glint, a thousand secrets barely concealed.

“Angel?” His voice is soft and sweet, a complete contrast as to who this man is. He moves so gracefully, like a feline. Jisung doesn’t have time for such games that this man enjoys. Photos from his pocket slam on the dark wooden table separating them.

“What do you know of this man?” 

Blue, as the man likes to be called, glances at the photos with clear disinterest. His mouth presses into a straight line, eyes narrowed. His reaction tells nothing of him, for he’s well known to fake his tells.

“Never seen him before.” 

A stack of bills, hundreds, join the photos on the table. The corner of Blue’s mouth twitches. 

“Still don’t know?” 

Blue laughs, a high and uncontrolled sound, hand running through his slicked back hair. His eyebrows raise, eyes flitting down to the photos again. Another stack of bills follows.

“Maybe my memory is starting to clear up.” Blue says, sliding the stacks closer to him. He looks up expectantly and Jisung’s last stack hits the table. 

“That’s all I’ve got.” He says. Blue grins and pockets the money, giving the photos one more glance.

“His name is George Fleming, he’s a New York investment banker by day, dirty cheat by night. Any competition to his company suddenly goes bankrupt or disappears.”

“What’s your relation to him?”

“Me? I don’t know him.”

Jisung empties his pockets. A small bundle of photos completes his set. Blue laughs again, delighted when he spots himself and Fleming caught conversing in a car.

“Who is your PI? They’re fantastic.” He picks up one of the photos, analyzing it with a wicked smile and tosses it aside. He does this with each photo in the stack, until he’s left with a clean table and a pile of pictures at his feet. 

“He is a client.” Blue says. 

“In which business?” 

“It isn’t important how I know him, makes no difference to whatever you’re looking for. Let me give you a word of advice,” Blue leans over the table, sparkling makeup bouncing off the light, “if you came for revenge, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

“It isn’t revenge I’m after,” Jisung meets Blue halfway, his face dangerously close to the other, “it’s you.”

Blue’s smile twitches.

“I don’t think your boss would be too happy to find out that you’re associating with George Fleming, one of the most powerful Aces in the United States.” 

“Are you blackmailing me?” Blue lets a laugh bubble past his right lips. 

“If that’s what you’d like to call it. Of course, none of this will ever reach Chan’s ears now that I’ve found you.” Blue’s grin fully falls at the mention of their boss’s name. 

“Nice to finally meet you, partner.” 

+++

A man spared once by Fortune and her wheel is just a spared man. A man spared twice is a lucky bastard. A man spared three or more times can only be called by one thing: Fortune’s favorite.

Fortune, like every sinner, plays her favorites. Those certain few who she will spin her for in such a way that the outcome can only ever be positive. She plays favorites, and switches them just as easily, like a boss and a favorite employee. Fortune holds no loyalty to her favorites, none that can be considered constant, for she herself has never been any form of the word.

Her occasional favorites are blessed for their few shining weeks of standing on her good side, they get lucky time and time again, receiving all the glory and riches their hearts can handle. When Fortune is done with them, their luck drains and she moves to a newer, fresher face. Fortune’s favorite is not a gamble one can play to win, it is simply one they may attempt from the pieces within their hearts. 

For the weeks leading up to this very moment, Jisung has considered himself one of Fortune's favorites. Without a doubt in his mind, he knows his luck will run out soon, but he plans to make a dent in her pocket before it does so. In this very moment, he cannot tell if his luck has taken its leave from him or if it is simply dwindling.

Blue stares at him across the table, face blank and eyes empty. Two buttons undone at the chest of his pink waiter’s shirt are clinging to the material by sewn threads. His fingertips  _ tap tap tap  _ the arm of the velvet red couch. 

“I could put a bullet in your head.” The response is not entirely expected, Jisung will admit as much, but it doesn’t take him as off-guard as it was intended to. Insults and threats on his life are not new concepts to him, and certainly not from someone like Blue himself.

“You could.” He says with a shrug. His body relaxes against the orange leather of the couch beneath him, sinking as far down as he can. His feet ache when the pressure is relieved and blood rushes back through the veins. 

“I have a revolver in the cushions,” A pillow moves into Blue’s lap, revealing a sliver of shiny silver tucked between the cushion and the armrest, “would you like to play a game?”

“That depends.” Jisung’s shoulders rise and fall yet again in another shrug. An eyebrow cocks at the gesture, the casualty. Fingertips dance along the stretch of metal.

“On?”

“Your luck.” Jisung replies and leans forward on the couch again, welcoming the ache within his exhausted limbs at the sudden movements, “Do you feel lucky, Lee Minho?”

There isn’t a second’s pause between the removal of the firearm and the cold press of a barrel to the underside of Jisung’s jaw. His brain takes half a second to catch up with the events and he barks a laugh that toes the line of insanity when he hears the gun click. Blue is silent.

“Say it again,” His voice is so low, yet betrays not even a hint of an emotion, “and you’ll be nothing more than another splatter on that back wall.”

The smile Jisung wears pulls at the sides of his mouth, hurts his cheeks. His teeth are pressed together so tightly he feels they could break, but he only smiles wider and pushes the limit further. The underside of his jaw, where only a thin layer of skin and muscle conceals his tongue, buries into the barrel.

“Well?” He says, a short laugh escaping his stretched lips, “Go on, what are you waiting for? Take the chance.” 

Warmth radiates from Blue’s hand when Jisung slowly encapsulates it in his own and moves the barrel of the gun to his temple. He grins when the circular end kisses his skin. The bullet would go right through his brain, killing him instantly. Should a bullet be in the chamber. 

Blue’s frown straightens into a thin line, his blinking slowed and calculative. The revolver sends a shiver down Jisung’s spine when it retracts from his skin, only to press into the material of his shirt. His heart beats out of his chest, anticipation bleeding into his veins when the end hovers above his organ. The trigger pulls.

A click.

Nothing.

The burst of sharp pain and heat doesn’t come, the spilling of blood over the pristine carpet doesn’t happen. The space between Blue’s thigh and the arm of the couch is once again filled with the revolver. Blue raises an eyebrow.

“Guess it wasn’t your day.”

“My luck has not yet faded.” Pictures pool at Blue’s feet, the ends bent and torn by his spiteful hand, “I will make you a deal, Blue. We will play a game and if I win, you have to be my partner and help me with our missions. If I lose, you can burn those photos and any back-ups and never speak to me again.” 

“What’s the game?” Blue speaks without much resistance.

“Choice poker.” 

+++

“Why do I feel as though this is a game you’ve made up?” 

Cards slap against each other as they shuffle down, sleek and tough against Jisung’s palms. The cold and smooth surface brings a feeling of nostalgia to him. This was a game Jeongyeon loved, a game she taught him to play and raised him to be good at. It’s only natural he would choose such a game against an opponent like Blue.

“Aren't all games made up?” He places the shuffled deck in the center of the black table, the backs of the cards staring up at him makes him giddy. This kind of gamble always brings a rush with it.

“Don’t play dumb. Establish any and all rules beforehand, I do not react kindly to cheating.” Blue inspects the deck briefly, but he refocuses on Jisung soon enough. If he didn’t find Blue’s accusation so funny, he’d be offended.

“Me? A cheat? I would never disrespect a gamble in such a way. But alas,” The pillows stacked beneath him lean with his body, “We’ll each be dealt five cards. We’re allowed to exchange any number of cards, face-up, once. The hand rankings are the same: five of a kind is the strongest and high card is the weakest. We won’t be playing with jokers, but it makes the strongest ranking possible. This is about betting and raising, whoever has the most money at stake gets to choose which hand, weaker or stronger, wins.”

“You don’t look like the kind of man who has a fortune to bet.” 

Blue’s remark holds some truth to it, none that Jisung will ever wear on his face. The money he bets does not belong to him, he seriously doubts it belongs to Jeongyeon either, but it’s in his bank account and he has no problem draining it. He’d bet his life on this game should the bet be validated.

“You don’t look like the kind of man who decapitated a drug lord and delivered his head to his brother on a plate, but we both know what your file says.” Jisung draws five cards with a smile. Blue says nothing and copies his movements, analyzing the back of his cards for any markings.

“I’ll do the same to you when I win this game.” The lower half of Blue’s face is hidden behind his cards, his voice muffled by the thick material. His eyes are piercing and sharper as they stare into him now, watching every slight move he makes.

“You wouldn’t have anyone to deliver it to.” 

His hand is garbage. He has nothing of actual value here, but he smirks as if he has it all. Blue isn’t fazed by his bluffing for even a second.

They trade out their cards quickly, neither one caring much for the other person’s trades. Jisung makes a mental note of them, but doesn’t spend too much time analyzing. 

“Ten chips.” Blue bets. The gamble has begun.

“I raise you another ten chips.” A laugh escapes him as he pushes twenty chips forward. His two new cards in his hand are making him vibrate with excitement. 

“Call.”

“Stronger.”

Their cards hit the table. 

Pigs. They both have pigs. 

Neither hand can be considered good on any level, but under close inspection, Jisung’s ace gave him the higher card advantage. Twenty chips slid across the table by Blue’s delicate and unbothered hand. They arranged nicely with his others.

The cards are dealt again, both of them trading their cards. Jisung doesn’t miss the way Blue’s eyes trail after his hand as he swaps out a pair of tens. An eyebrow shoots up, but that's the only reaction he is given. 

“Twenty again.” Jisung says. He twists a chip through his fingers, his back relaxed against the leather of the couch behind him. Blue watches him intently, not breaking a sweat either.

“I raise you twenty.” 

“I’ll raise you thirty.” He smirks, waiting to gauge Blue’s reaction. There isn’t one and he’s left with a blank expression yet again.

“I’ll raise you forty.” His voice is level, calm. Betting means nothing to either of them, the money doesn’t mean a thing. That’s how they know their opponent is worthy of this game, because they’d bet away every penny their lives are worth for the sake of the gamble.

“Fifty.”

“Sixty.”

“Call.” 

“Stronger.”

Cards fly across the table. The force in which they were slammed down has them turned at weird angles, some falling off the sides. Neither of them pay much attention to it, hyper focused on their opponent. 

A shared look in their eyes. It’s manic, borderline insanity, the amount of joy they’re getting from toeing the line. A normal businessman would deem them psychotic if they were to witness a game so dismissive of the money. It was never about the money.

Jisung has a pig. There is absolutely nothing in his hand and yet he revels in the thrill that he gets when the cards smash the table. Minho has a straight and Jisung eagerly slides over sixty dollars in chips to the others pile. They barely notice the exchange. 

“Last round?” Blue questions, voice breathy and concealing a grin. A smile right now would split his face in half, the kind only someone truly gone would be able to pull. 

“Let’s do it.” Jisung’s voice is a direct mirror of the other man’s and eyes are glossed over like the material of a card. He can feel the adrenaline pooling in his veins and he can’t wait to add more and more and more until he explodes.

They deal and trade once more and then they’re right back at the fun part. 

“Let’s start with sixty.” Blue grins, brushing his fingertips over the jagged sides of the chips. His expression is wicked, nothing but pure mania underneath. Jisung loves it.

“Seventy.”

“Eighty.”

“Ninety!”

“One hundred!”

“All in!” Jisung pushes his stacks to the center of the table. There is a thousand dollars on his side of the table. One hundred chips at a value of ten. 

“Me too!” Minho pushes his chips to the center as well, colliding with Jisung’s and mixing together. They both know Minho had twenty chips more than Jisung, making for a total of 1,100 dollars on his side of the table. He has the advantage.

“Stronger!” He exclaims and his cards bounce from the table as they connect with it. Jisung’s follow and they both gaze at the cards laid out before them with heaving chests and wide eyes. Jisung can feel his lungs burning and aching, but the feeling is addicting.

Each had a three-of-a-kind.

Minho’s is three eights.

Jisung’s is three Jacks.

Each of them stare at the cards in silence, letting the end of the game ride it’s high until it dissolves. Blue bubbles out a laugh, and pushes the pile of chips closer to Jisung. Some fall from the table, others roll to the other end of it. Jisung isn’t concerned with them.

“I’ll be seeing you Monday morning, partner.” He says, eyes locking with Blue’s. 

“No, you won’t.” He says simply and Jisung’s eyes narrow, “Because we have a mission on Tuesday. Rest up on the weekend, we’ve got a difficult first assignment come Tuesday, partner.”

+++

There are six sides of a dice. 

The chances of rolling a six are one in six, the chances of rolling an even or odd number are one in two and the chances of rolling a number higher than four are one in three. Every time the dice is rolled, a chance is taken, a bet is placed. Every time the dice rolls, the stakes rise.

For a gambler, a true gambler, the game doesn’t matter. Cards, dice, loaded guns, it’s all the same to someone who plays with everything on the line. They win or lose it all, no matter what game they succumb to. 

The true gamblers don’t stop until they’re dead, either with a bullet lodged in their brain, or old and already decaying in a coffin with missing limbs as evidence of their times. Jisung would even bet their gambling doesn’t stop there, that those people barter with their soul to this day at the gates of Heaven or Hell. He knows he will.

To Jisung, you haven’t lost it all until you are no longer you. He’s got a lot left to bet.

Despite Minho’s warning, he doesn’t rest up on the weekend. Anybody who is resting at a time like this is a fool of the worst kind, a joker in a deck of faces and aces. Anonymity comes with being among Bang Chan’s ranks, he doesn’t shy away from attention in the slightest because of it.

He quite likes the thrill of potentially being recognized in the streets, the chance that an Ace might spot him and shoot him dead right there. A chill runs down his spine at the thought, bringing a shiver of anticipation to his body. But alas, he returns to his shitty downtown apartment safely. 

He can’t stay here for long, not when the name on the lease is fake and his documents are fraudulent. Thank god for Jeongyeon’s connections, one of the only things she left behind besides an enormous pile of stolen cash and a few dead-end leads that ran Jisung like a goose. At least the fake passport looked real enough to pass airport security. 

He returns to his apartment and he spends the rest of his weekend there, cutting holes into his mattress and hollowing it out to stash his illegal firearms and even more stolen cash. He has very little that actually belongs to him, but he takes that jacket-pocket of items with him everywhere. Including one of those false leads, a Queen and a Joker playing card, the left corners bent.

Come Tuesday, he welcomes the chime of the bell in Chan’s video store and the smell of black espresso. Bypassing the employee entrance, he hops the counter again and knocks once in warning on the office door. The next moment, he busts it open and is pleased to find Chan behind his desk once more, an irritated Blue in one of the leather chairs by the door.

“Quite an entrance there, Jisung.” Chan remarks without emotion, eyebrow raised in silent amusement, “I’m assuming you’ve met the Blue Angel.”

Blue stares straight ahead, past Chan’s face and figure, at the bleach white wall opposite of him. Jisung isn’t surprised in the slightest by his feigned nonchalance and obvious annoyance. He was only here because he lost the game.

“I’ve met him. A very interesting character, if I do say so myself, Chan.” There is a brief pause where Blue’s jaw clenches as the words leave his mouth, but it relaxes a moment later. Jisung smirks. 

“Well, you’re an interesting character yourself, Jisung. Though I’m sure your skills will work together nicely, should you find yourselves in the position to use them.” There is something in the way he speaks those carefully chosen words, something almost humorous. One glance up at him is all Jisung needs to determine the thoughts behind such a tone. 

Chan is betting on them being in the position to use those skills  _ tonight _ . How exciting.

“I have yet to see a showcase of Blue’s skills, though I don’t doubt he possesses them. After all, he’s yours, isn't he?” 

Clench. Unclench. 

“He is indeed one of my best, and I only allow the most elite already.” Chan grins a little, but it is far from the warm he usually radiates. Something sinister and wicked lies beneath the surface of such a smile. “Your mission has been set, Blue has the information and would be thrilled to explain the premise to you in the car.” 

As those words exit their leader’s lips, Blue’s gaze snaps from the wall and he pretends Jisung is nothing more than a ghost as he stalks out. Snickers escape Chan, though his attempts to keep them at bay are not strong.

“You should get moving, he won’t wait long.” Chan informs him through a smile, the warm seeping in through the cracks. Jisung dismisses himself with cold press of the door handle against his palm. 

“And Jisung? Don’t let him break you on the first day.” Chan is smirking when the door closes without confirmation from the other, though his cackling can be heard from the streets. 

Blue sits in the passenger’s seat of a car equally as sleek and pristine as the one he drives. His partner’s focus is on a glinting metal in his hands, his fingertips running gently along the edges of the object. Jisung slides into the driver's seat before he can lock the door on him. Blue tosses the gun back into the glovebox at his entry.

“What’s on the agenda tonight?”

The key slides into the ignition, the engine roaring to life beneath them. Adrenaline courses through Jisung’s veins, overtaking his entire body in one fell sweep, fueled by the feeling of the wheel in his hand and the pedal at his foot. Blue says nothing. 

“You’re super chatty, aren't you?” The car pulls onto the street, a little too fast and too hard. They jolt in their seats. “That’s alright, I get that it can be difficult to find the words around such good looking people as myself.” 

No reaction. He isn’t even sure Blue blinks. The silent treatment won’t last long. Jisung stops at a red light and takes his opportunity.

“That’s all alright. Right, Minho?” 

A knife is against his windpipe within seconds, the edge of the blade digging into the soft skin of his throat hard enough to make breathing a challenge. Just like he did when the gun was to his temple, he laughs. It’s full-bodied and full of pure joy.

“I told you not to say it again. Do you think I have any aversion to slicing open your throat until it is a mangled mess of bloody skin and exposed nerves?” Deep and low voiced, he gives Jisung the reaction he wanted. He speaks slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child.

“Haven't you learned that threats of death are empty to me?” Jisung laughs, bitter and a little manic. His eyes bore into Blue, filled with something so unreadable and concealed that it puzzles someone as composed as the Angel is.

“You need a street name.” Blue says, the knife retracting from Jisung’s throat and disappearing once more.

“A street name?” 

“Yeah, a name for the streets to call you by,” Sarcasm drips from the sharpened edges of Blue’s words, once again speaking slowly in the patronizing way that he does. “You didn’t seriously think you could fly under the radar, did you? The Wolf of Wilkson’s Way has a fresh face among his inner circle, you think that can remain a secret for long?”

“I am not a fool, I had no doubts of my name circulating through the streets,” Jisung bites back, something close to desperate, “I simply thought my time of discrepancy would be prolonged.”

“Having such a thought makes you a fool.” Slowly blinking eyes settle on his face, an almost offensive gaze. Blue’s plush lips are curved downward in a heavy frown, eyelashes grazing a cheekbone every time they close.

“Are you prepared to kill me, Jisung? Put a bullet in my eye and leave my body for the pigs to cash their pretty little paychecks?” The knife is back out again, tracing the lines of Jisung’s jaw to the soft underside of his chin. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel the tip against the bottom of his tongue.

“I can’t think of an insistence where I would need to,  _ partner _ .” The last word is spoken through gritted teeth. He is careful not to move his mouth too much, knowing Blue himself holds no hesitation to let him stab himself on his blade. “We’re supposed to trust each other, isn't that right?” 

“Oh, you needn’t think too hard.” Blue grins, the sharp point digging directly into his skin in a manner most threatening. “Should an appropriate circumstance arrive, are you prepared?”

A search for the trick in the question brings no answers to his mind. The pressure against his jaw does not leave room for critical thoughts. He says the only thing he knows Blue wants to hear, a half-truth.

“Yes.”

He flashes a smile made of malice and mania, it appears so suddenly, splits his face with it. Jisung half expects there to be a row of fangs where pearly whites glint back at him.

“Excellent.” He tries to watch where the knife goes when Blue retracts it, but yet again, he fails to catch the older’s trick. The light has long since turned green when he flies under it.

For a first mission, this one sounds like something straight out of a spy film. Jisung can’t help but notice the dramatic flare Chan is so obviously keen on by the way he crafted this plan. He is to keep the hotel receptionist occupied while Blue slips into the third room on the left on the seventh floor. What he’s looking for is not shared in the briefing.

“Why is there a need for distraction? Isn't that typical spy bullshit?” The gun Blue passes him is a comfortable weight in his hand. It slides into the waistband of his jeans easily.

“There are cameras at the front desk monitoring each hallway. The bodyguards are a problem as is, and I have to disable the alarm system within the electronic lock. I don’t need the alarm system altering the front desk team when their lock goes dead.” Blue tucks a gun into his waistband as well, retrieving the one from the glovebox as well and stashing it up his shirt by his ribs.

“What if there is more than one clerk at the desk?” 

“I’ve taken care of that.” 

A communication device shoves into his ear, filling his head with harsh static. The wire tucks directly into his shirt and hides beneath the material. Blue ushers him in first.

The hotel is built like the finest of mansions, marble walls and high ceilings painted by artists of their time. Fur rugs and plush couches line the waiting area, where two businessmen sit opposite of each other with cigars in their hands and smoke on their lips. They talk quietly, two quiet for Jisung to hear, but the case at one of the men’s feet hides nothing.

One clerk at the front desk, just like Blue said, sends him a friendly smile as he approaches. She can’t be much older than he is, but the caution in her eyes is older than her physical body. A brief glance at her name tag.

_ Tzuyu. _

“Hello.” She greets with the voice of an angel, “How may I help you today?” 

“I hate to bother you with such matters, but I believe someone may have used my card to check into this hotel.” He feigns an awkward smile. The girl smiles in a way that makes him feel transparent.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Do you have the card with you?” 

Jisung removes his wallet, taking out three cards he knows can’t be traced back to him. Each one is linked to an overseas bank account, with a false name and address. The money is the banks, not his.

“I don’t know which card the report came back on, would you mind running them all?”

Another tight-lipped smile from the girl as she says, “Not a problem.”

The cards move from his fingers to her outstretched palm, face-up toward the ceiling. It is then he notices the mark on her wrist and nearly fumbles the cards in the process.

Ace of clubs. 

Little is known about the Aces, their identities the most key part of their anonymity. Jisung knows only from his years of chasing dead ends and employing Chaeryeong about their main divisions. 

The Clubs are the lower-level Aces. They are the first to get caught, the runners, the everyday citizens wrapped in the mess of a few money hungry bosses. Most grow up in the Clubs, and they will never leave. The Clubs are the shields, the Aces who will be buried in the sewers.

The Diamonds are the lower-middle Aces. They're the boisterous fighters, the police flirts who always walk the line between getting caught and getting shot. They have a little power, but only enough to keep them on their leashes.

The Spades are the middle Aces. The politicians, the high rollers, the untouchables. Some of the most well-known and dangerous names live among the Spades.

The Hearts are the high Aces. Nobody knows who they are, nobody knows a thing about where to find them. The Hearts walk amongst everyday people, disguised as their lies. They are untraceable. 

There is a lapse in his brain when he spots the mark of the Club on Tzuyu’s wrist. The tight-lipped, baby-faced girl is among the most dangerous gamblers in the world. Now, this is an interesting wrench to throw in the plan.

“I like your tattoo.” He says, offhandedly, pretending to not notice the implications in his words. The girl stops momentarily, hand frozen over the keys of the computer. 

“Pardon?” Her knuckles turn white around the plastic of his cards. Tzuyu doesn’t yet lose her composure.

“Your tattoo. I like it.” He flashes her a grin too sweet to be real, “What's the inspiration?” 

“No inspiration.” She replies, hasty and clipped around the edges. Jisung smirks to himself as she continues to run his cards through the system, lips in a thin pressed line. The line deepens as she swipes the last card.

“There doesn't seem to be a room booked under these cards.” She replies, eyebrows knitted together and eyes wary. Brown eyes bore into him, analyzing his every feature.

“Really?” He remarks. Tzuyu’s hand extends the cards to him. “Well, that certainly is interesting. Perhaps, they checked in with another card.”

His hand grasps her wrist, pressing the pad of his thumb into the Club. Tzuyu doesn’t react for a minute, letting his calloused finger run over his mark. 

“I suggest you get out of here, Stray.” She hisses, low in her throat, snatching her hand out of his grasp, “This hotel doesn’t allow dogs.” 

A loud siren cuts off whatever witty remark is on the tip of his tongue, flashing white lights from around the room. Tzuyu’s eyes widen, settling on Jisung as her mind overturns their interaction. He was the distraction.

“Pleased to meet you, Tzuyu.” Jisung backs toward the door to the sound of fire bells and salutes her, “Thanks for throwing this dog a bone.”

Blue meets him in the car exactly four minutes later, with a fresh bruise on his left cheekbone and a microchip clutched in his right palm. Jisung floors it all the way back to headquarters.

+++

Chan is most pleased with their return, genuine surprise painted on his features when they burst into his office with all their limbs. The grin that takes his face when a plastic bag falls from Blue’s pocket is enough to send a chill down their spines. Inside the bag, there is a small black square.

“You are promoted.” Chan holds the square up to the light, it’s golden fangs catching on the low fluorescents. Squeezed between his fingers is a microchip. 

“I’m already the top agent outside of the command, and I don’t want to work alongside Changbin.” Blue’s mouth twitches at the mention of the Stray’s second, though Jisung can’t decide if it’s in distaste or humor. Blue offers no explanation.

“What’s that chip?” A light but curious interruption to their banter. Blue glances at him, dead brown eyes training on his figure. He wants to know more than ever what goes on behind those eyes. 

“It’s a master list of the Aces. The Diamonds and Spades, of course.” The chip slips into Chan’s laptop, the one he built from scratch that caught Jisung’s eye the moment he first entered this shop. All of their electronics are built by Seungmin, who makes them untraceable and invisible to any government satellites. 

“How in the hell did you get ahold of a master list of the most powerful Aces?” Jisung turns to Blue now, brown eyes zeroed in on his phone. His eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t speak.

“You didn’t tell him who you were robbing there, did you?” Chan laughs.

“Tell me you aren’t that stupid.” Blue says instead of responding, gaze flickering to Jisung in the most degrading manner, “Why do you think I had to sneak past bodyguards? Have the hotel clerk distracted? Why do you think I have a bruise on my face and a dozen on my body?”

“You robbed a Spade?” Jisung whispers. It phrases like a question, though it is far from it. On his first mission, his partner robbed a  _ Spade.  _

“ _ We  _ robbed a Spade.” Blue corrects him and returns to his cellphone as if nothing has been said. Jisung blinks several times, the information swirling around his brain and bouncing off the edges. Until it collides with another realization.

“Tzuyu.” He says aloud and both the men in the room glance at him with subtle interest, “The clerk. Her name was Tzuyu. She’s a Club.”

Chan snaps his head up, eyes locking with Jisung’s. There is no panic behind them, no fear like Jisung half-expects. There is emptiness in those eyes, but recognition so thinly concealed. Minho hums low in his throat.

“The Spade we hit tonight is well-known, she was likely keeping guard.” Blue adds.

“Which means we don’t have near the amount of time we think we do. If Tzuyu was there to keep watch, then how was she fooled so easily?” A ballpoint pen twirls through Chan’s fingers, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“She knew I was a Stray.” Jisung blurts, “Do you think they expected us?” 

“It’s possible. I wouldn’t rule it out for sure.” Chan sucks the tip of the pen into his mouth, teeth nipping at the end. Blue frowns.

“That could mean the names on the list are fabricated. But why let us take it?” 

“No idea. Some of the Spades listed are notorious, it doesn’t make sense to make their own guys targets.” 

“Maybe they added those guys to throw us off.” Jisung suggests, leaning forward on the table to peak over Chan’s shoulder, “They added only the names people know and would realize were missing, but the rest are fake.”

“So, what’s our move now?” Blue shifts on the edge of the table, pocketing his cellphone with pinched brows. 

“We continue like normal for a few days, lie low in case any Clubs are out on the prowl. I agree with what Jisung said, but I think it’s deeper than that.”

“How so?” Blue inches closer.

Chan gulped. “I think they want us to seek these guys out.”

+++

Lying low is not something Jisung ever did well.

Chan’s words bounce around his brain for the nights that follow their mission, a constant ringing bell that keeps him awake. He can feel the press of blood money against his back, the weight of the automatics he has stuffed into the frame. It excites him, and yet he’s been told to sit still. Not even two days later, he finds himself doing the opposite. 

The Rolling Eights is wildly busy for a Thursday night, but it is nothing compared to the apprehensive chaos of Fridays and Saturdays after work hours. The bar is more breathable tonight than it was the first time he showed his face. One of the bartenders noticed his approach.

“What can I get for you tonight?” It’s a different bartender than the one that had previously served him. This one looks much younger, face a little fuller and eyes a little brighter. His smile drips innocence.

“Angel shot. Straight.” He says and the bartender’s smiling face slips into something a bit more tense. He returns with the drink only a moment later, no white paper taped to the bottom.

“The Angel is busy at the moment.” The bartender says, eyes narrowing in on Jisung’s face and he’s preparing to turn away when Jisung speaks again. 

“That’s quite alright. After all, Chan sent me to talk to you.” It isn't a complete lie. Chan had insisted weeks ago that Jisung familiarize himself with the rest of their team, the members he hadn’t met. The accent on this boy matches Chan’s, which can only mean he’s Felix.

“So, you’re the new business partner?” Felix leans over the bar, smirking as his hips dig into the edge. He studies Jisung’s face for a good moment. “You have given the Angel quite a run for his money.”

“If not me, then who else?” Jisung snarks back, downing his shot in one swift mouthful. Felix’s grin widens all the more. His elbows rest on the counter, chin rolling over his knuckles as he bobs his head back and forth in a motion all too innocent. 

“He has a lot of things to say about you, Hannie.” The childish pitch of his voice compared with his normal deep tone is jarring, and the use of Jisung’s last name has the man’s hands gripping the table underneath him, “None of them good.”

“Was I supposed to expect anything different?” 

“No.” Felix laughs, a happy and bright sound. His demeanor changes so quickly, too quickly for Jisung’s liking. “The Angel is rather temperamental. He doesn’t like it when people involve themselves in his business, and you seem to have done just that.”

“And talking to me, his partner, isn't involving yourself in his business?” Jisung cocks an eyebrow and the delighted squeak that comes from Felix is both expected and surprising.

“You aren't his partner. Not yet, anyway.” Felix replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The tip of his index finger circles Jisung’s empty shot glass.

“What does that mean?” Jisung watches Felix’s hands closely. He read this guy’s file too. He knows the sort of tricks Felix plays, the game of manipulation and psychological cons he likes to inflict on those stupid enough to fall into his trap.

“He’s  _ your  _ partner, Hannie, but only because you don’t have the means to ask for a new one. But you aren’t  _ his _ partner, he doesn’t have partners.” Felix collects the empty glass. considers it for a moment with a frown and then tosses it behind him. It smashes against the wall, a billion pieces of glass flying everywhere as the megawatt smile returns.

Before he can squeeze another word out, the bartender from before stalks over, dark brown hair tied into a ponytail behind him. He regards Jisung with a glance of disinterest.

“Lix, you’re on the clock and I don’t get paid enough to work the bar alone while you chat up the new guy.” 

“Aw, come on, Jinnie.” Felix whines, bottom lip jutting out and hands bunching the fabric of the other’s vest, “Don't you want to know what’s got Blue so pissed off?” 

“I couldn't be less concerned with him.” He barks a laugh, allowing Felix to topple after him when he moves his taller body too quickly. His eyes drift to Jisung and smiles. “I’m surprised you were left alone with him and came back alive. Congratulations.” 

“He held a knife to my throat twice before we even left the street. But, thanks for the thought.” 

Hwang Hyunjin is the wildest of wild cards. He’s the joker in a set of faces, the draw-fucking-four. One of the most notorious Strays aside from Bang Chan himself, Hwang Hyunjin is mad without method. 

He carries a revolver on him at all times, always filled with one singular bullet and every day he spins the chamber and submits to the fate Fortune deals him. Yet he is a phenomenal gambler, one of the best. He’s beautiful. He’s a madman.

“On my first day, Blue slashed my arm open in five different places to see which I’d cover first.” Hyunjin clicks his tongue, barring his teeth in a joyless smile, “It was his personal little test, he said, to see if I was smart enough to cover my exposed vein first.”

“I’m assuming, since you still have an arm, that you passed?” Jisung flicks the napkin his drink was served on, the flimsy material folding over on itself. 

“Blue likes to specialize his tests based on the person.” Hyunjin let’s it hang in the air just long enough for Jisung to process. In the next second, he flies forward, his hand wrapping around Jisung’s throat. “But silly little knife threats seem a little weak for him. If I were him, I want to see just how much noise you make without that sharp tongue. Wonder if you’re still as annoying.”

“I can assure you,” Jisung leans forward in Hyunjin’s grip, not failing to notice the way his fingers squeeze the sizes even tighter, “sharp tongue or not, I’m pretty hard to ignore.”

“Hey!”

The hand is removed as soon as the word ricochets. His blood begins flowing back in the shape of a handprint, Jisung doesn’t have to seem himself to know where the reddened marks are. Blue stalks over behind the bar, tossing a tray on the counter.

“No breaking the new guy, Chan says he’s my responsibility until he’s promoted or dead.” His voice plays on amusement, sparkly white shirt catching the glare of the low lights. He doesn't spare Jisung a single glance as he approaches. 

“Look at Blue, all grown up and defending his partner.” Felix snickers, glass crunching under his boots. Blue leans against the bar, his right thumb stabbing at Jisung.

“This  _ parasite  _ is not my partner.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you prefer leech?” 

An over the shoulder look of judgment is all he receives with the jeer. The grin on Felix’s face is mocking, with all the maturity of a small child chanting “I told you so” in your face. In the twenty minutes he’s been at this bar, Jisung has been taunted, choked and publicly berated in front of his co-workers. He does not contain the patience needed for this.

“I’d prefer something a little appropriate for your partner.” The bitterness seeps into his words, not matter hard he tries to filter it out. He supposes he can allow himself a  _ little  _ bitterness, due to his constant disrespect.

“Do you have hearing issues too?” Blue turns to look at him now, eyes narrowed and sharp, “You’re not my partner.” 

“That’s not what Chan says.” His voice is light and airy as he sing-songs the words, crunching his stomach against the edge of the bar to get closer, “I am your partner. Whether you like it or not.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Yet again, Jisung finds himself staring at the honed edge of a long blade. The tip rests on his left cheek, pressing down just enough not to break skin. The slight shock of sudden pain sends adrenaline coursing through his body, brings a smile to his face.

“What would the club owners say to their employee waving a weapon at a customer's face?” Jisung finds it difficult to talk with the blade pressing so deeply into his skin, but he doesn’t mind it. It doesn’t hurt, or rather, he doesn’t mind the pain. He wants to see how he can play his cards and what outcome he will get from it. It’s a gamble.

“They wouldn’t say anything, considering they're Aces. They’d probably recruit me.” Blue throws his head back and laughs, the very end of the blade tipping just slightly deeper into his soft cheek. No skin broken yet. 

“And what would Channie say?” Faked pout has his lip jutting out, and Blue takes it as an invitation. The blade leaves his cheek, lays flat against his pouted lip and drags down slowly. Not hard enough to cut, just scraping lightly. 

“He’d make me do reports for weeks. He likes you, it would probably be about a month a half for that reason alone.” The blade slides off his lip, only to return and repeat the process, “But as much as I hate reports, I think carving this little smirk right off your face would be worth it.”

“Then, do it.” Jisung leans into the blade, reveling in the way it presses against the thin skin of his lip in a way most threatening, “No need in waiting, huh?”

Before Blue can do just that, a hand clamps on his wrist hard enough to leave a bruise. Blue doesn’t flinch, does not show any indication that he felt the hand, except for the sliding of his eyes to the owner. Felix stands with a small grin.

“As much as I hate to ruin the fun, I’m going to have to be the voice of reason to you two homicidal maniacs and the suicidal maniac.” His eyes flicker around the club, “You see, unfortunately, this club isn’t made up entirely of gang members. We need regular people to help wash the money, and regular people don’t take the carving of someone’s face lightly.” 

“It doesn’t have to be messy.” Hyunjin speaks up, twirling the gemstone of his necklace in between his fingers. His smirk is every bit as sly as Jisung’s heard it is. He can’t wait to figure out what kind of thoughts are behind such an expression.

“Yeah. Besides, it’ll be just like the  _ Joker,  _ right, Jisung?” Blue smirks, a small laugh bubbling out of his chest, “Silly little Joker.”

“Blue.” Felix hisses, his teeth clenched as he spots a patron stumbling over to the bar, clearly drunk but drunk enough to bypass this scene. The knife disappears as soon as she gets to the counter, a wad of bills following her as she crashes into the side of the bar.

“Whoa there, hon. You alright?” Felix flashes a charming smile at the woman, who makes a noise in response. “Can we get you anything? A cab, maybe?” 

The woman nods and Felix motions the bouncers over, who escort the woman out of the club and onto the street. She bumps into Jisung as she’s dragged, mumbling an apology that’s almost too slurred to make out.

“Why did you come here?” Blue is leaned against the counter now, staring at Jisung straight on. The blank slate that is his face catches the colored lights beautifully. If he was normal, Jisung might have entertained that thought.

“I wanted to see if you’ve gotten anything about the list.” 

“Chan told us to leave it alone and lie low. How difficult can it be to just mind your own business for a few days?” Blue’s cocked eyebrow is a warning that he’s annoyed, but Jisung doesn’t let that shut him up.

“This  _ is  _ my business. Tzuyu knew who I was, maybe not my name, but she recognized something about me. Does it not concern you that they knew we were there and still allowed us to get that list?” 

“No, it doesn’t.” Blue answers, fingers tapping against the counter, “They didn’t just hand that list over, I went through four bodyguards and a top Ace to grab that microchip. They have allowed us to come, but they didn’t allow us to just walk out of there with it, which means there is something of value on that list.” 

“And you’re really not concerned with whatever that is?” 

“I could spend my time worrying about which Ace wants my head in a jar this time, or I could spend it doing my job and listening to Chan.” Blue straightens, making himself appear twice Jisung’s height, “Don't make the mistake of thinking you know more than Chan, parasite. He leads this gang for a reason.” 

Blue’s silhouette is swallowed up by the crowd once again and Jisung sits at the bar for another ten minutes before he leaves. He can trust Chan for now, but something in his gut tells him he might have to step on a few toes in the future.

+++

The apartment complex on sixth street facing the train station is a worn-down, thirteen story building with rent too high and appliances too unreliable. That worn-down, thirteen story building serves as Jisung’s home for the next few weeks. Maybe he has three if he’s lucky, just enough time to settle in and get comfortable before the police catch on. 

There’s a set of rules in place that he follows like a religion, a set of rules the inner voice in his head (that sounds eerily similar to Jeongyeon) has conjured up and enforced. It’s this set of rules that keeps him unknown, unheard and unsuspicious. 

The first rule is never let anybody know where you’re staying. This one should be a given, and not much of a problem due to Jisungs lack of friends, but being among the Strays ranks makes it increasingly hard. He never enters his apartment complex when anybody is on the street with him, and never where anybody can see. 

The second rule is never get to know your neighbors. He is an expert at this rule. Most of his neighbors throughout the years have been elderly people, or middle aged office workers who don’t have the time to spare him a glance. He keeps odd hours, odd enough to ensure he almost never runs into a neighbor in the hallway or the elevator.

The third rule is never get too comfortable. When he starts to sleep too easily or too well, when his fridge begins to fill with more than enough food for the day, when he can find his way around the apartment in the dead dark, he packs up and leaves. 

The final rule is the most simple; always be ready to run. It’s pretty self-explanatory for the life he leads.

He isn’t yet comfortable here yet. The fridge only has a single half-gallon of milk, he still stumbles over the couch when he walks in, and he can’t sleep well or easily with the feeling of the revolver burying into the side of his head every night. He has no reason to run yet.

He keeps weird hours and today is no different. Blue’s advice rings in his head every time he thinks about going down to the video shop and asking Chan about the list. His partner resenting him is not a risk he can afford to take right now.

Laying low for two days straight means lounging around his apartment, occasionally walking around the block to buy something cheap from a food truck and only going downstairs to eat or check his mailbox. As much as he hates it, he’ll follow orders for now.

However, his location of choice this time does not seem to adhere to the same general format as his previous accommodations. Usually when he wanders into the mailroom at two in the morning, he doesn’t come face-to-face with a young tenant with bloodshot eyes who reeks of coffee. This is one situation he is not entirely prepared for.

“Do you want some?” The kid says after a minute of silent staring. He leans against the table beside the coffee pot, sipping slowly at the paper cup in his hand. His eye bags are darker than the night sky. 

“I’m good, thanks.” Jisung tries to make quick work of his mailbox key, but he can’t seem to get it to turn. He hears a curt laugh from his left.

“You’ve got to wiggle it around a little before it turns. The locks are old.” The boy watches him closely in amusement, eyes peering at him from over the brim of the white cup. His gaze is intense, sharp, like a fox.

He follows the boy’s advice with a sigh, humming to himself when the key turns smoothly and the door to his mailbox swings open. There’s only two items in there, a weekly newsletter from the landlord, and an unmarked envelope pressed too thin. He knows better than to open it in front of the kid.

“You’re new here.” It’s not a question. 

“Moved in a couple weeks ago.” He keeps his voice flat, uninterested. Maybe this kid will catch a clue. 

“This is my first time seeing you around.” He says, eyes twinkling as if he knows something Jisung doesn’t, “It’s not that big of a building.”

“I keep weird hours.” Jisung replies, staring the boy straight in the face. He isn’t liking the knowing smile and analytical eyes. 

“Don’t we all.”

For some unidentifiable reason, that sets him on edge. The kid doesn’t seem to be bothered by what he said, or by Jisung’s discomfort, just sips his cup in silence. It’s almost threatening.

“Yeah.” Jisung says and he turns to leave.

“My name is Jeongin.” The kid says and he’s coming closer and closer. His breath falls over Jisung’s ear, “It was nice to meet you, Jisung.”

“How do you—“

“I like to pick the mailbox locks.” Jeongin flashes a smile, something twisted, and then he’s gone. 

Jisung locks himself in his apartment five minutes later, settles down on the creaky mattress and opens the mysterious envelope. A rectangle sits in the center of the white enclosure, thicker and harder than paper. He pulls it out, already knowing what it is by how it feels in his hand. The familiarity of a playing card is one he will always recognize.

The card is a queen, with one corner bent down. 

He drops it in shock. As it floats to the ground, the face of the card turns over and the back stares up at him. A red “A” is drawn just before the bend.

As he lays in bed, the clock striking four in the morning, with the queen card tucked to his chest, he thinks of that kid in the mailroom. Could he have left the card? It’s possible, but it doesn’t feel right in his gut. He knew Jisung’s name.

Jisung is then struck with a realization. He snatches the weekly newsletter from his bedside table, eyes scanning over the name addressed on the front.  _ Lim Dongju.  _

He gave the landlord a fake name. His mail is addressed to a fake name.

But Jeongin knows his real one.

+++

On the third excruciating day of flying under the radar, Jisung receives a text on his burner phone. It’s supplied by Seungmin and used only for communications with the gang, which is perhaps the entire reason it runs as slowly as it does. He abandons all thoughts of the card and Jeongin as he runs down the stairs of his complex.

The video store is vacant as always, not even the broad daylight and rush hour can bring life to such a dead industry. The bell chime is an expected greeting now, as is his launching over the counter. Blue and Chan sit in the office, staring at the screen in front of him. 

“Not starting the part without me, are we fellas?” He slides in the seat beside Blue, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Close the door.” Blue all but growls. Jisung kicks it shut with his left foot.

With the room secured in silence, Chan turns the monitor around. The list of names is displayed, roughly sixty names in total. Some are highlighted.

“All the names in yellow are the Spades we have verified the identities of. There’s only ten of them, which means there’s a high possibility the rest of these names are fake.” Chan taps the screen, where one name is highlighted in pink, “Except this one. I can’t verify an identity for this one but something is off. I’ve heard this name before, I know I have.”

“Something is definitely up. They made me fight for that list.” Blue’s eyes lock with Chan’s, his insistence strong and will stronger. Chan nods.

“Yuna calls everyday to check on you. They didn’t let you walk in there and take it. It just doesn’t make sense to fabricate over half the list.” Chan worries his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed. Jisung stares at the names on the screen, the ones left unmarked. None of the names are common, almost like they were meant to look fake. But why?

He remembers giving his own fake names, how he did it and how he remembered them. 

“Scrambled.” He whispers and Blue’s deep eyes snap to him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Scrambled.” He repeats, louder. He nearly falls out of his chair, “The names, they're scrambled, it’s an encryption.”

Chan turns the monitor back around, eyes boring into it as if he could ask it directly. His eyes move between Jisung and the unmarked names.

“Why would they leave ten Spade names unscrambled and scramble the rest?” Skepticism is clear in his words, but there’s a part of him that believes it. The Aces are just like them, all about gambling. It isn’t unheard of for them to pull tricks like this.

“They want us to seek the Spades first.” Blue speaks up, the tip of his index finger running across the highlighted names in yellow, “This rivalry has been brewing for a while, they don’t like competitors. They want to meet the only people in this area who dare challenge them and probably kill them.”

“We have done nothing to fuel the rivalry with the Aces. That’s all talk.” The look on Chan’s face isn’t exactly worried. The mention of the Aces makes every hair on the back of Jisung’s neck stand up, but it doesn’t frighten him. Perhaps, Chan is the same way. Perhaps, he’s itching for a meeting with the Aces.

“And we both know that’s worse.” Blue raises an eyebrow at their leader, arms folded over the chest of his lavender button-up, “If people are talking about us in the streets, it means they no longer see the Aces as the ones on top. Or at least, not the only ones on top.” 

“When do we meet with them?” Jisung’s words draw both pairs of eyes in the room, “I mean, we  _ are  _ going to meet with them, right? We’d be idiots to let this get away from us.”

“You are going to meet with them, just try to sound so eager.” Chan smirks, but his expression slowly melts into a frown. The one name highlighted in pink stands out.

“Young K.” Jisung reads aloud. Chan nods.

“He isn’t a Spade, Spades are bold enough to put their real names on here. There’s a chance he’s like Blue.” At Jisung’s look of confusion, he continues, “Blue’s real name is only in one location; his file. Any databases we have, even the encrypted ones Seungmin builds, don’t have his real name. He’s Blue Angel to the rest of the world.” 

“So, this is like a code name type of situation?” Jisung squints at the screen, the name in pink taunting him from within. The white illuminated backdrop strains his eyes. 

“Yeah. If he is using a nickname, that can only mean he  _ really _ doesn’t want his name out there.” 

“I’ll find him.” Blue says, nonchalance and boredom playing tug of war with his expression. Even Chan doesn’t seem too convinced by his exclamation.

“Oh yeah? How?” 

“I already have a lead.” 

A pair of police handcuffs  _ slam!  _ on the table between them. Chan and Jisung both stare at the item curiously, watching Blue from their peripherals. The agent doesn’t acknowledge their gazes, choosing to let them piece it together themselves.

And just when Jisung is about to crack and question him about the handcuffs, he spots the initials. 

_ KYH. _

+++

“It’s a simple stakeout mission, nothing fancy. If he moves, you move. But, I still refuse to send my guys out without ammo.”

Seo Changbin is the Strays infamous second-in-command. He’s on the shorter side, but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in brute strength. His biceps are the size of melons and Jisung has an urge to protect his face any time he makes a move toward him.

While there isn’t much to be known about where Chan comes from, Changbin’s background contains all the clues to their upbringing. 

Only children of two of the area's most legendary gang members of their time, Chan and Changbin were sheltered for most of their lives. From his research, all Jisung knows is that their roles were predetermined. Changbin would be second-in-command to Chan from the moment he was born. 

Now, having grown into the man that stands in front of him, Changbin is a weapon’s expert and easily the most intimidating member he’s met thus far. When Changbin holds out a glock and gestures for him to take it, Jisung wraps his fingers around every inch of the weapon that Changbin is not touching. The man notices his hesitance and it brings a smirk to his face.

“Are you always this fidgety?” He asks, his eyes trained on Jisung’s sweat-slicked hands as they fumble around with the gun, “Should I be giving you a weapon?”

“He's probably scared of you, Bin.” Blue cackles hysterically at the younger’s dismay, “He probably thinks you’re going to smash his face into his skull.”

“As fun as that would be, Hyunjin would be mad if I did that after telling him he couldn’t.” Changbin chuckles. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out small two black circles and shoving them in the awaiting hands. Each of them slip the comms in, listening for the  _ beep _ that clears them.

“Watch yourselves. Something is brewing between the cards.” 

Changbin ducks out of the office then, leaving Blue and Jisung to their own devices. Just yesterday, they had stood in this very room as Blue revealed the possible cop connections the Aces may have. Tonight, they’ll trail the Spades in hopes of finding out who  _ KYH _ is. 

“If the Aces have cops in their back pockets, exactly how bad is that for us?” Jisung let’s the question hang in the air for a moment. He’s almost convinced Blue doesn’t hear him, but he hums about two minutes after the question has been asked.

“We’re fucked.” Blue replies and he doesn’t waste any more time hanging out. 

Jisung lingers in the office for a few moments longer, anxiety creeping into the pit of his stomach. Despite how excited he is for this mission, how fascinating it is to him that the stakes may very well rise after their discoveries tonight, he cannot shake the feeling that something is off.

It started with that card. 

His sister always bent the corners of her cards, mostly as part of her bluffing within their games. Every card they ever played with had a corner bent and remolded back to its original position. When did he misplace the one thing he has left of his sister? Who knew to return it to him?

The kid in the mailroom, Jeongin, does absolutely nothing to ease his mind of worry. He is an oddity, a suspicious thief of Jisung’s ever seen one. His fingers are as sticky as chewing gum. His thoughts are interrupted by the rapping of knuckles in the office door.

Hyunjin enters, eyes bleary and beady and soulless. His hair is unkempt, mouth stained in a red tint. Jisung risks a glance at his hands, knuckles bruised and skin sliced in thick jagged lines. 

“Parasite!” Hyunjin greets him with a smile so wide, he’s worried his face might crack in half. From a closer angle, his bleeding eyebrow is better seen beneath the lights. His bottom lip is cut too.

“Hyunjin.” He greets back. If there’s anybody who sets him on edge more than the boy from the mailroom, it's Hyunjin. He's a borderline psych ward patient.

“Tell me, parasite, have you seen dear old Channie around anywhere? I’ve got a mess he needs to clean.” Hyunjin places his hands on either side of Jisung, effectively backing him into the desk. He flashes another smile. 

“Haven't seen Chan today. Changbin left a few minutes ago, he should still be around.” To say he is unnerved would be an understatement. Hyunjin isn't just a little creepy, he isn’t just a little crazy. Hyunjin is dangerous. He flinches when his eyes drop to Jisung’s jacket.

“You’re all dressed up,” His finger twists into the collar of his shirt and pulls, choking Jisung from the back and sides, “where ya going?”

“With Blue. For a mission.” He manages to get out even as the finger tugs harder and tightens the material. Hyunjin brings their faces close and then he laughs. The finger untwists and Jisung nearly chokes from the rapid intake of air filling his lungs. 

“Give the Angel my regards.” 

Hyunjin disappears a moment later.

Jisung tries to let his thoughts slip away and not focus on the dried blood beneath Hyunjin’s fingernails and the way he reeks of death. Instead, he puts all his focus into examining the handcuffs one last time and locking the office behind him.

Blue is out front, yet again in the same car they had driven the first time. Only this time, he sat in the driver’s seat, blankly staring at his burner phone. In the dead quiet, Jisung can hear the  _ ding _ ing of the car protesting his door being open, and the way the engine hummed beneath their bodies.

“Hyunjin sends his regards.” The car is warm, a direct contrast to the temperature outside. A shiver runs down his spine at the change, but he doesn’t complain. Blue chuckles low in his throat.

“Tell that bastard to send me the money he owes instead.” Blue merges into traffic without even glancing over his shoulder. A car behind them slams on their breaks to avoid a collision. “My rent won’t be paid with his “regards.” Fucking cheat.”

There is hardly a bitter undertone to his words, though nothing is malicious. Jisung thinks he can detect a smidge of respect within his expression.

“Hyunjin cheated?” Jisung frowns. Sure, he knows not everyone is so willing to throw money around the way he does, the way Blue and Chan do as well. However, cheating isn’t real gambling. He had figured Hyunjin a gambler.

“The only thing he’s cheating me out of is money.” Blue blows through a red light, narrowly missing the car on the other side of the intersection. He doesn’t blink and Jisung subconsciously grips his seatbelt. “Hyunjin isn’t a cheat. Chan doesn’t take in cheaters.”

“How long ago was the bet?” His own curiosity gets the better of him. Blue doesn’t answer for a moment and Jisung isn’t going to press.

“When I first got here.” Blue finally says. The car runs up on an empty sidewalk, passes the car in their lane and merges back. Jisung knows better than to say anything, knows better than to react. He can’t help but wonder why Fortune is allowing him to continue living. 

“And he still hasn’t paid you back?” Jisung’s question comes through gritted teeth. He must be going crazy, because he swears he sees Blue smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Chan doesn’t take in cheaters, but he does take in thieves.” Blue laughs to himself, soft and pretty. It’s a sound Jisung chooses to focus on rather than watching his life flash before his eyes every second he remains in this car. “Besides, even if Hyunjin  _ did  _ pay me, he would just steal it back later.”

The car slows as they turn on the street marked in Blue’s GPS. He pulls up to the sidewalk and kills the engine, eyes fixating on the building across the street. 

“Do we know where he is right now?” Jisung hears Blue sigh the moment his mouth opens. His partner shoots him a look, annoyed with his abundance of questions in the last ten minutes. Jisung doesn’t apologize for it, and instead looks at him expectantly.

“He’s on his way. Seungmin hacked his phone records and was able to listen in on one of his calls. He’s expected here tonight.” Blue juts his chin at the building. 

“Expected by who?”

“We don’t know. Seungmin couldn't trace the call.” Blue rips his gaze from the front doors, his eyes watching Jisung carefully, “Whoever it is, they are smart enough to use technology like we do. That’s why tonight is dangerous.” 

“Aces?” He’s afraid he already knows the answer to that. Blue chews his bottom lip.

“More than likely.”

The silence surrounds them for the next several minutes. Both their eyes stay locked on the doors of the building, a bolt of adrenaline coursing their bodies every time someone enters or exits. They don’t talk, they hardly even blink out of fear of missing him.

Nearly twenty minutes of tranquility pass, every moment feeling heavier and more demanding. Jisung’s fingers twist anxiously in his lap, winding themselves into the fabric of his hoodie. There is nothing for twenty minutes.

Then, a shiny silver car turns onto the street and parks in front of the building. Both of them hold their breath as a man steps out, greeting the doorman as if he lived there. They wait three minutes before Blue is flinging open his door and making his way to the car. 

Jisung stays close behind him, eyes peeled and observant. The back of Blue’s hand connects with his forearm in a short slap and Jisung looks up to see the doorman watching them. They can’t be too obvious.

Blue walks by the man’s car as if he is completely unaware of it and Jisung feels only slightly out of the loop. Then, Blue collapses to the ground.

“Woah, you okay?” Jisung reaches down to help instinctively, Blue’s body shielded by the car. It becomes apparent he was counting on this by the way he reaches out and sticks a microscopic device on the underside of the car, grabbing Jisung’s hand and pulling himself up in the process.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” His voice is so un-Blue-like, Jisung nearly chokes on the laugh threatening to escape him. He manages to swallow it down. “I think my ankle just gave out again.”

“Do you have your brace in the car?” Jisung plays along, slinging Blue’s arm over his shoulder and “helping” him back in the direction of the car. The doorman looks on in concern, but doesn’t seem to have caught on. That’s good. They make it back to the car, parting and sliding into their respective seats with satisfied grins. 

“That should do it.” Blue says, tapping out a quick message to Chan. Jisung watches as the doorman once again steps aside and begins talking to someone. The man in the silver car comes into view. 

“Blue.” 

Another car is pulling onto the street, stopping in the middle of the street instead of on the sidewalk. The car is left running as it’s owner gets out, walking directly toward the man in the silver car and the doorman. Blue rolls down his window and tries to hear some of the conversation, but can only make out certain syllables.

Something glints when the new arrival brushes his jacket back and Jisung freezes when he sees what it is. A police badge. Blue sees it too, sitting straighter in his seat.

“He really is a cop.” Jisung breathes, knowing he won’t get a reply. They watch the interaction play out, the man in the silver car passing a handful of cash into the hand of the cop. 

“Yeah. And apparently there is something deeper going on than we thought.” Blue raises his phone to his ear. Jisung didn’t even see him type a number, but he stays quiet as the dial tone rings out.

“Chan. Meet us back in the office, we have news for you.” He clicks the phone off a second later and backs out into the street. The cop takes his leave at the same time and Blue makes an effort to tail him long enough to find out where he’s headed. He stops at a large complex in the middle of the bustling city and heads up into the apartments.

“The Aces have cops in their back pockets.” Jisung states, bewildered. Blue’s eyes squeeze shut momentarily, knuckles whitening over the handle of the steering wheel.

“We’re fucked.”

+++

“You want the good news or the bad news?”

They’re standing in Chan’s office now, the oldest of the three looking worn and beyond exhausted. Yet, there is still a glint in his eye that betrays his interest at the prompt. 

Jisung takes notice of the dried blood staining his shirt, probably a result of the “mess” Hyunjin needed him to clean earlier. Chan’s eyebags are deep and black, giving him the appearance of someone much older than himself.

“Either or.” He replies to Blue’s question, settling back in his chair and sipping from a green coffee mug. His laptop is open to a blank screen, the TV playing on low volume in the background.

“We bugged an Aces car.” 

“I’m assuming that’s the good news.”

“Bad news is,” Blue continues, eyeing the handcuffs thrown on Chan’s desk, “we confirmed the Aces have the police in their back pockets. The owner of those handcuffs was conducting a business deal with them earlier tonight.” 

“Well,” Chan rubs his hands together, small smile creeping onto his face, “this just made things a lot more interesting.” 

“We can kill him if you want.” Blue volunteers immediately, so casually that Jisung flinches upon hearing the words, “Jisung and I could do it. Or Hyunjin, if you want to make things messy and quick.” 

Jisung rolls his eyes and tunes his partner out. His ears catch onto the background noise coming from the TV and before Chan can give his response, something makes Jisung stop. 

“Roll that back one more time.” He says, spinning around and watching the TV intently. Chan cranks up the volume and rolls it back. 

The cop from before stands at a podium now, name displayed on the screen below him.  _ Kang Younghyun.  _

“As chief of police, I am doing everything in my power…” The rest of the speech fades off as the three of them all slow to a complete stop. The room is once again dead quiet, save for the rest of the speech in the background. 

“He’s not just a cop.” Jisung dumbly whispers and he sees Blue’s jaw tighten.

“No.” He agrees, voice low and cold, “He’s the fucking commissioner.” 

+++

The Carpenetti family and their small pizza shop has been a staple in many moments throughout Jisung’s life. 

It was in this very restaurant, thirteen years ago, the police strolled in and escorted a ten-year-old Jisung outside with a then fifteen-year-old Jeongyeon. There, in the parking lot of Carpenetti Pizzeria, they broke the news of their mother’s overdose. His first memories with the Carpenettis hadn’t been his favorites.

It was also in this very restaurant that his sister had her eighteenth birthday, consisting of just her and Jisung as they gourged themselves on whole pies and full sodas. He was just thirteen then, but he remembers the fond look in her eye when he managed to fold three pizza slices into one and eat it whole.

He saw the police one last time at the Carpenetti Pizzeria. He remembers that day like one remembers a near-death experience. The way the cop stalked up as if he had one hundred other things he would rather be doing, one hundred other things he would rather do than tell a seventeen-year-old that his only family member left was officially missing.

The Carpenettis themselves aren’t bad people, in fact, they feel bad for Jisung’s misfortunes. Papa Carpenetti makes an effort to greet Jisung at the door and he gets free pizza on his birthday. They avoid the topic of Jeongyeon all together and Jisung appreciates that more than any amount of free pizzas they could give him.

The red and white checkered tablecloth brushes the exposed skin peeking through the rips in his jeans. His leg bounces beneath a cheap wooden table, the leather of his boot squeaking in protest each time. The pizza shop is mostly dead at this hour and he has his eyes fixed on the door.

Ten minutes later, the front doors swung open and Blue struts in, brown hair messy and untamed in the way he usually isn't. He sports the same type of clothing; slick black jeans and a lime green button-up. There’s glitter around his eyes as well.

Blue takes the seat across from Jisung without so much as a hello. He orders a water when the waitress comes over and folds his arms over his broad chest as he waits for Jisung to begin. When Jisung states back at him, he sighs.

“What did you find?” One of his arms uncross to play with the hem of the tablecloth, tugging on a loose thread. Jisung clears his throat and sits up a little straighter, having to remind himself why he’s here.

“About the mission? Nothing.” He adds a shrug at the end to try and seem casual, though his body immediately tenses when Blue’s glacial gaze sets itself upon him. 

“Then why did you call me?” The inquiry is spoken slowly, damn near threateningly, but Jisung knows better than to fold in front of an opponent. Blue is his partner, but right now, he’s a game he has to beat.

“Why did you answer?” He says the first thing on the tip of his tongue, biting it directly after. The look Blue gives him is still cold, but it isn’t anything new.

“This is ridiculous, why am I here if you don’t have anything?” He huffs and crosses his arms yet again and Jisung can’t help but think he looks like a child doing so. Blue, intimidating and cold, has his cheeks puffed out like a toddler.

“Because after your very professional exit last night, Chan expressed some concerns about our partnership.” Jisung replies, waiting only a moment to collect Blue’s attention again, “He thinks we need more bonding time.”

“Bonding time?” Blue scoffs, loud and obnoxious, “He must have finally gone off the deep end.”

“I think he’s right. I hardly know anything about you—“

“And you will leave here knowing the same.”

“—and you hardly know anything about me.” He finishes with a glare at his partner. Blue pretends he doesn’t see it and averts his eyes for a moment. He takes in the scenery of the pizza shop. Not a single inch of the place has been left bare, family photos, portraits and italian sayings crowd on the small surfaces.

“There isn’t really anything I want to know.”

Blue mumbles, ripping his eyes from the walls to stare at Jisung again, “This partnership is temporary, I’m only here to train you before Chan deems you ready to be set free.”

“How long will that take?” Jisung tries to keep the short pang of fear he feels run through his veins from showing on his face. If Blue detects anything unusual, he doesn’t say so.

“You want the honest answer?” At Jisung’s nod, he continues, “A while.”

“Oh, come on,” Jisung whines, falling back against his chair. He tries to make it seem like he isn’t relieved by that, “I’m not  _ that  _ bad _. _ ”

“You’re not bad, just inexperienced and it shows in your mannerisms.” Blue takes a sip from his water as the waitress drops it off and Jisung takes note of his use of the napkin. Fingerprints. Right. 

“Then why is Chan letting me so close to the inner circle?” His attempt to discreetly wipe his own glass off fails when Blue smirks.

“Because you’re one hell of a gambler.” 

Unsure of what to reply, Jisung diverts his eyes to the menu underneath his hands. Big pink letters catch his eye and he scans over them in interest. Blue hasn’t even glanced at his own menu.

“They’re doing a couples special!” Jisung exclaims, giddy with the thought of getting free pizza. Well, half-off anyway. Blue raises an eyebrow at his fidgeting.

“Cool.” He says flatly and when Jisung turns his gaze on him, he nearly makes his escape then. 

“We should do it.” There it is.

“Do you need me to call the mental hospital? Have you lost your mind?” Blue bites, but Jisung only sends him a strained look and turns to their approaching waitress. 

“Hey Jisung, it’s been a while.” Aria Carpenetti smiles down at him, light brown eyes swimming with joy. Aria, the firstborn daughter of the restaurant's owner, is somewhere in her thirties by now. She was one of Jisung’s favorite parts of this restaurant, used to sneak cheese bread under the counter for Jeongyeon to take home. Of course, that was before.

“Indeed it has. I have to say, you still look just as beautiful.” He grins when Aria lightly smacks his shoulder. Through the years he's spent here, she’s grown used to his flirtations, learning to brush them all off with a laugh. There was a time he was serious, but he was also ten and she was a twenty-two-year-old college student with a sense of humor. He’s long grown out of that.

His flirtations don’t hold any weight, but that doesn’t keep the very obvious gag from Blue at bay. He shoots his partner a glare and Blue makes a face back at him, a judgmental expression. 

“I’m sorry, I’m being so rude.” Aria turns toward Blue, that same friendly smile remaining on her face, “I’m Aria. What can I get for you two?”

“We’ll have the couples special.” Jisung answers before Blue can, his mouth open and eyes narrowed. His jaw clamps shut at that response, glaring intently at the younger.

“Oh!” Aria tries and fails to keep the surprise out of her voice, eyes moving from one to the other. Jisung forces a smile and leans over the table to secure Blue’s hand in his. The sudden touch has his partner flinching away, but his hand remains limply held in Jisung’s.

“What toppings would you like on that?” Aria scurries for her notepad and pen, her gaze landing on Blue as she does so. She knows Jisung’s order, the question is entirely directed at the other agent.

“Why don’t we do half-and-half, honey?” Jisung smiles sweetly and attempts to choke on the squeak that threatens to break from his throat when the tip of Blue’s shoe digs into his shin. His grin tightens, as does his grip on his partner’s hand.

“Sure,  _ sweetie. _ ” Blue grits out, “I just like cheese on my half.” 

“And I’ll have the usual on my half.” Jisung flashes Aria another megawatt smile, receiving only a half-skeptic look in response. She doesn’t comment, instead jotting down their orders and heading off the kitchens. The minute she’s out of earshot, Blue is yanking his hand away.

“Are you trying to crush my fucking fingers?” He snaps. Normally intimidating words lose their effect when Jisung sees the light blush on his partner’s face. He never thought it would be so easy to fluster such a cold wall.

“Oh  _ honey,  _ I would never.” He teases and watches in silent amusement as Blue’s face grows redder. They sit in an odd silence for several minutes, neither comfortable nor awkward. Without anything to focus on, Jisung lets his mind drift back to their mission.

“What do you think we’re going to do now?” He asks, the question piercing their thick silence. Blue doesn’t turn his gaze to him, eyes honed in on the kitchens where Aria converses with her uncle.

“About what?” 

“About what we found out.” He raises his brows and Blue frowns when he looks at him. A long sigh escapes him.

“I meant it when I said we’re fucked. You understand the gravity of it, don’t you?” 

Jisung nods. Unfortunately, he understands it just fine. The Aces have more power than they ever could, even with their outer rings and connections in the lower places. The police being on the Aces side is bad news, the worst.

“By the way, you need to choose your street name. Deadline is up.” Blue sips his water slowly.

“Hmm, how about… Red Devil.” 

Blue sighs again, heavy and long. A spot of laughter escapes Jisung’s lips and Blue glares half-heartedly. 

“You really aren’t going to let me detach from you, are you?” He asks it like a question, but Jisung can sense that he already knows the answer. He’s smarter than Jisung’s given him credit for.

“We are partners, after all.” He answers with a shrug.

“Temporary partners.” Blue corrects quickly, index finger and thumb squeezing the bridge of his nose, “You're really hung up on this partner thing. Not that I care, but why is that?”

Jisung could lie. He could joke his way out of this. However, despite those instincts, there’s an inkling in his core that tells him Blue will see through it. If he wants Blue to be honest with him, he has to be honest first. So, for once, he’ll tell the whole truth.

“I need this gang, this partnership. Six years ago, the Aces took someone from me, someone I can never replace. I’ll put a bullet through the brain of the bastard who stole her or I will die trying.” He stares Blue in the eyes as each syllable forms. After what the Aces did to her, he will have no mercy for them.

“They killed her?” 

Jisung gulps.

“Her body… it was never found. The police can’t find any evidence that she was killed, but you know how these things go, how the Aces are.” It feels both relieving and terrible to say it aloud. Relieving, because after so many years of denying the most likely possibility, he feels like he’s finally ready to accept it as one. Terrible, because speaking it out loud makes it all the more real, confirms his deepest and darkest fear.

He may never see his sister again.

“She could still be alive.” Blue murmurs, voice quiet and lacking its usual edge, as if he were treading on eggshells, “If she was an Ace, there’s a chance she's still in the inner-ring.”

“Six years, Blue.” Jisung repeats, “She wouldn’t leave me to fend for myself for six years, not after everything.”

“She may not have had a choice.” Blue whispers, though Jisung doesn’t think it’s for his ears. 

The conversation is cut short with the arrival of their meal and they eat in relative silence for the remainder of their lunch. They part ways without a goodbye, the Aces activity heavy and weighing on their minds. 

+++

Four to the right. Pass one, two to the left. Thirteen to the right. Bingo.

The safe opens underneath Jisung’s palm, metal door springing open with a soft  _ click!  _ He isn’t sure what he was expecting to find behind that door, perhaps money or a weapon, but instead, there is a single mailing envelope. 

He slides the envelope into his bag without glancing upwards, shutting the safe immediately and turning the number back to fifteen where it was before he arrived. After all, he is very sure a man as big and powerful as Lee Minhyuk knows which number he left on the safe.

The company is closed down for the night, a perfect opportunity for a knocked out doorman to provide a steady sweep of the building.  _ Too easy _ is the only consistent thought Jisung has in his head. 

The Aces want them to pay the Spades a visit? That is no problem, just perhaps their definitions of “visiting” are different.

He knows this the second he rounds the corner of the darkened and deserted office and comes face-to-face with a group of four large criminals, all aiming a gun at him. He nearly laughs in their faces, delighted. His carefulness has gone to waste, now the fun part begins.

“It was a fatal mistake to let you have this mission.” 

Blue’s voice is ice cold in his ear, every pronounced syllable dripping with regret and anticipation. In front of him, a man lunges at Jisung with his gun drawn and index finger on the trigger. He gets the urge to giggle.

“Don’t think so negatively, Angel.” His exhausted and worn tone tears through the static of the communication devices. Fingers wrap around the nimble wrist of the man wielding a firearm and the barrel of the gun releases a bullet only an inch to the right of his ear. His left knee collides with the man’s stomach, followed closely behind his left fist with the man’s nose.

“How am I supposed to think anything but negativity right now, Devil?” His street name breaks past with a minimal amount of poison. Blue still isn’t all too excited about their affiliations due to their similar names, but there isn’t much he can do to stop it now. 

“You have your old position back, the one you rightfully deserve.” Another man flies out from behind a corner, but Jisung is not a fool and he is not surprised. The takedown is swifter and easier, his wrists scream at the amount of pressure they’ve felt tonight.

“Is that your way of admitting that I’m a better getaway driver?” Blue bites back and the gentle hum of a car turning over drowns out the background noise to his voice. Jisung smirks. 

“Only if you admit I’m a better operative.” He adds a wink that won’t be seen, but it helps contribute to the tone he uses. 

“You are a rookie agent with no experience. You’re not better than me at anything.” 

Another man comes out from the elevator, lunging for Jisung’s throat with a switchblade in between his fingers. Blood draws out of his shoulder where the edge of the blade brushes his skin and a sharp pain shoots through the exposed area. Jisung’s fist rears back and connects with the man’s nose, blood spewing out and staining his t-shirt.

A weight on his back, a knife at his throat. It takes him a second too late to piece the decoy together. _ Damn,  _ He thinks,  _ that goddamn file must be important _ .

Before he can feel the sweet slide of a blade on his throat, his hands clasp around the arm and he gives a violent and harsh tug that allows him just enough room. He slips out of the hole, jams the knife backwards into the chest of the man restraining him. He doesn’t wait around to see the result.

The man from before goes for another round and Jisung lets a few punches slide before he gives in. His knuckles crack against the man’s jaw in an uppercut, and his left foot pops out and sinks into the man’s stomach. His back crashes through a window and Jisung books it before he can hear the aftermath.

The stairs are long and tiresome, his bloodied footprints leaving behind more evidence that he would have liked. Then again, dead bodies and broken windows would've done that trick. 

The entrance of the building comes into view, as does the slick black car his partner drives. Blue is standing outside of the car at the moment, kicking the body of the man out of the way from his front tires. 

“Hey rookie, next time aim anywhere else  _ but  _ the car. You got blood on her and the car wash is expensive and inquisitive.” Blue raises an eyebrow, kicking the final limb down the sewer drain with an annoyed hiss. He gets back in the car a second later, tinted windows an unusual invite.

“One day, you’ll eat your words.” The car door slams behind him and Blue is pulling off a second later with a scoff.

+++

At three in the morning, the world is quiet. 

Jisung runs his routine as he usually does before entering his apartment building. There’s no one at the front desk to greet him, no doorman working the late shift to hold the door open. He’s thankful for that, those people always made it harder to leave in the middle of the night.

There is, however, a figure standing against the back wall of the mailroom when he enters and he doesn’t have to look up to sense who it is. The energy in the room shifts with his presence. 

“Nice to see you again, Jisung.” Jeongin’s voice rings out in a sing-song pitch. He slides up beside Jisung, like a snake slithering around his body. Jisung glances at him in disinterest, that same smile creeping and filling him with dread.

“Hey Jeongin.” He isn't in the mood for the antics of a college student tonight, especially one who looks so downright sadistic. He wiggles the key in the lock and opens his mailbox.

“You’ve got a letter.” Jeongin says casually and Jisung reaches into his box, thin paper meeting his hand. He narrows his eyes at Jeongin.

“You went through my box again?” 

“A very pretty young lady dropped it off for you. I just took the liberty of checking it. Don’t worry, I didn’t open it, but I do find it curious how none of your mail is addressed to you. It’s all… blank.” His eyes bore into Jisung, a silent challenge written between the lines of his exclamation.

“I don’t like for people to know things about me that they shouldn’t. I ask my friends not to put my name on things.” He shoves the thicker envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket. Jeongin watches his movements with an interested glint, not acknowledging his excuse. 

“You want to know what I think, Jisung?” He pushes off the wall, smiling brightly when he leans dangerously close, “I think you are the most interesting person I’ve seen in a  _ long  _ while. It’ll be fun to see how this ends.”

Slicker than a quick-witted fox, Jeongin is once again gone, seemingly vanished into thin air. Jisung entertains the idea of him taking the stairs, but dismisses it regardless. It doesn’t matter. 

The bed clogged with money lumps and illegal items is a sight most welcoming to him. The weight of fifteen years in federal prison should this money ever be discovered increases on him every day. 

The envelope is thicker, heavier in my hands like a weight in his pocket. It’s sealed, now by hand or mouth, but with a seal. Jisung knows better than to question who could have sent mail with a bright green seal.

The first thing he pulls out is a letter. It’s written on parchment paper, thick and the pen is black and scratchy. Still, he recognizes the blocked handwriting.

_ Jisungie, _

_ I'm glad to see you're finally getting revenge for your sister and I wish you the best of luck. I did run a background check on someone and what I came up with isn’t very relieving. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.  _

_ Love, Chaeryeong. _

Behind them, a stack of photos crowd his bed. Each is from a different time, on a different day, but the same subject. His fingers brush over each one, ranging from January to November. But his eyes catch on one.

Rage has never taken him so quickly. 

+++

The engine kills underneath him, sudden rush of silence filling his stomach with dread and his chest with anxiety. In his hand, he grips the photos with a strength he has never known, careful not to tear them until he’s made his point. It’s a hard battle.

One photo is tucked away in a desk drawer at home, something he never wants to see ever again in his life. He couldn't look at it twice, not after the first time bent him over a toilet for thirty minutes with his lunch down the drain. Not after his head aches and his stomach clenches and tears sting his eyes at even the thought of it. He has something to do first.

The pier, like most things, is empty at night. The air around him is cold, biting at his cheeks and his bare arms, but it doesn’t bother him the way it should. His entire body is hot, face flushed and boiling with anger. He chokes it down in favor of keeping his calm. He can’t go in guns firing.

The bench at the end of the pier is occupied, a figure slumped against the right side of it. Jisung sits on the left, his hand curling around the bar and leaving an indent. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t think he can even look at the person right now.

“You find something?” Blue speaks first and the sound makes Jisung’s insides curl. He resists the urge to reach for his gun. Focus.

“Clearly,” He says, voice flat and even, “or else I wouldn’t be here.” 

Something in his tone, or maybe his posture, must set off warning bells in Blue’s head. His partner’s back straightens, his slim fingers wrap around the edge of the bench. Jisung can see it in his eyes, he is preparing to run.

“Well, it’s the middle of the night.” There is no snark, no humor in the way he says it. It’s empty. “So, tell me.”

“So hasty.” Jisung tsks, feeling the growing bruise on his palm where his hand digs into the armrest. He forces himself not to lose it, to wait until the right moment. “Can you at least act like you want to see me?”

“No. Tell me.” Blue answers quickly, eyes darting to where both of Jisung’s hands lay out in the open. He moves closer to his own bar.

“Boring.” Jisung forces a laugh, “Why don’t we play  _ 20 Questions?  _ No asking about what I’ve found before question-seven.”

“Will it get you to tell me quicker?” The usual joking that would usually either make him laugh or force the rolling of his eyes just makes his blood boil now. Blue walks the line Jisung has so thinly drawn.

“Definitely.” He smiles, something sinister. 

“Fine. You go first.”

“Hmm, okay. What’s the name of your first pet?” The pictures are heavy under his fingertips, like rocks in his pocket. Blue can’t hold back a short laugh.

“Coco. What’s your favorite color?”

“Red. What’s a place you’ve always wanted to travel to?”

“Switzerland. What’s your drink order?”

“Iced Americano. Why are you a traitor?”

“What?” Blue’s head snaps up. Jisung trembles, not in fear, in anger. His mind wanders back to that picture he stuffed in his bedside drawer and he feels bile catch in his throat. 

“Oh come on, answer the question, Blue.” Jisung grins, like he’s never worried about anything in his life. “There’s no secrets between partners, is there?”

Several things register on Blue’s face. The grip of the edge of the seat tightens and his face has gone pale. Jisung watches and waits patiently, smiling as wide as he can manage.

“Are you alright? If you’ve been drinking, I can call you a cab, but you’re not coming home with me.” Blue makes a grab for his phone, but he stops short, waiting for Jisung’s face to change. He waits for a reaction. 

“Oh no, no drinks for me tonight.” He keeps the creepy smile, his fingers digging into the photos, “I’m drunk enough on betrayal.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Blue’s hands fall by his sides, pinched eyebrow and large frown donning his features. His eyes swim with questions. 

“Say, Blue, did you think it was funny? Listening to me go on about my dead sister? Did it amuse you to know that all you had to do was get her name and you could tell me the exact location where she was disposed of?” The smile twitches, he feels it. The anger is slowly creeping up his throat, straining it.

“Red, you’re really freaking me out and kind of pissing me off.” Blue’s eyes narrow at him, his thigh hanging off the edge of the bench.

“Do you find it hilarious that Chan would lie down his life for you whilst you feed information to his enemy?” 

At the raised eyebrow he receives, he tosses the photos on the space between them. The paper burns his skin, the top photo a display of Blue and George Fleming sitting in a car. There is an exchange of documents and money captured. Blue is laughing.

“Where did you get these?” He isn’t laughing now. In fact, if Jisung didn’t know any better, he would say Blue looked scared. But Blue doesn’t know terror, not the way he should. 

“A friend.” Jisung stands up off the bench, beginning to slowly pace in front of it. Blue’s eyes turn to him, lit ablaze and damming.

“Have you been fucking tailing me?” His voice shakes with fury so deep it nearly mirrors Jisung’s. 

“No. She did it on her own, I guess her instincts told her something was off.” His eyes turn to slits, the photos glaring up at him from where they still remain on the wooden bench, “And would you look at that.”

“This…” His voice cracks, “This isn't—“

“What it looks like?” Jisung laughs, low and mocking, “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t. I’m sure it’s so much worse. How long have you been selling us out, Minho?”

Blue flinches. His eyes dart up, landing on Jisung’s frame and hardening.

“Don’t call me that.” 

Jisung ignores him.

“How long have you been feeding Fleming with all of our information? How long have you been lying and accepting deals?” He presses on, fury seeping further and further into each word he spits. His words sting with every drop of venom he intends behind them. 

“Jisung, it’s not like that.” Blue weakly defends.

“You don’t even have the balls to deny it.” Jisung seethes, coming out like a hissing noise, “I don’t know if I should be surprised or not.”

“Please listen to me.” Blue, for the first time, looks small. He’s curled in on himself, hands on top of his knees and eyes blankly fixed on the picture. His fingers shake. Jisung almost feels bad, before he remembers what that picture means. Before he remembers what people like Blue do.

“You’re a traitor, Blue. You’re a cheat. A dirty, filthy cheat. Just like an Ace.” 

Something finally snaps. Blue flies up out of his seat, hands grabbing Jisung’s collar and tugging him forward. His eyes are wild, frantic and fearful. He’s scared.

“I’m not!” He screams, so loud his lungs ache with the force, “I’m not an Ace, not anymore! Jisung, you have to believe me, I don’t work for them. Fleming knows things, he knows people who can help me!”

“Help you what? Help you take us down?” He squirms in Blue’s hold. He knows if he really wanted out, if he really didn’t trust Blue, he could slip out. But a part of him wants an alternative answer, a part of him wants his theory debunked.

Because if his theory is true, the man clutching his shirt may have killed his sister. 

“Help me get away!” He cries, on the verge of tears and desperation in every syllable, “I’m not an Ace, that’s why I hate my name. I don’t want anything to do with Lee Minho the Diamond.” 

“Give me one good reason to believe you.” Jisung whispers, “One good reason and I will.”

Blue releases him, his hands going to his pockets for his phone once again. 

“I’ll show you.” He says as he taps away at his screen in a strange circle of movements. Jisung is suddenly looking at a bank account. “It’s the money I’ve been sending Fleming. I have my own PI, Lia, she’s been helping me find someone too. Fleming is trying to break away from the Aces, but they don’t let go easily. They only keep me alive because they want me back, they won’t do the same for him. He doesn’t have anything they want.”

“What do you have?” The question escapes him before he can put a cap on it. Blue’s face hardens, and then softens again.

“Knowledge. I know things I shouldn’t, killing me isn’t enough. They need me back under their forces.” Blue shuffles his feet, muttering coming out nearly muted. 

“Does Chan know?” Jisung knows he doesn’t. 

“No. I’m afraid he’ll tell me to stop.” 

“We have to tell him. He won’t make you stop if he knows it’s important but this is shady as fuck, Blue.” Jisung sighs. This may be the biggest mistake of his life, the only severe one he ever makes, but he trusts him. He trusts Blue too much to believe anything else.

“I’m sorry.” Blue mumbles, “But, Fleming did mention something to me. The Aces are starting a drug trade, something huge.”

Jisung perks up, “A drug trade? What kind?”

“I don’t know. All I know is, they aren’t sending their own agents to do it.” Blue swallows hard, lowering himself back down onto the bench. He’s red-faced and panting hard, “There’s neighborhoods that are made up of Aces, Felix comes from one of them. They’d get caught trying to sell it with agents.”

“So, what are they using?” Jisung furrows his brows, trying to imagine a loaded vehicle making its way through a town. Though he doesn’t think people are delivering drugs via  _ Amazon  _ package.

“Kids. Teenagers, as young as twelve, are walking around with drugs and playing running boys.”

“They’re training them?” Jisung can’t keep the disgust and shock from his voice. Blue seems just as disgusted and shocked, so he at least feels better about that. 

“More than likely. The Aces had a big bust about six years ago, a bunch of Spades and Diamonds went to prison. They moved up the lower levels to the inner ring and a lot of us were kids.” 

“Blue.” Jisung’s hands run down his face, “We have to tell Chan.”

“What if he kicks me out?” Blue rings his hands together, his nerves taking over him. Jisung sees this, sees the fidgeting and the nerves. His hands land on Blue’s shoulders.

“He won’t. And if he does, I’ll vouch. If what you’re saying is true, something huge is going on behind the scenes and we can’t wait until it’s too big to stop.” At this, Blue nods. Jisung is right, and they both know it. Still, the idea of Chan being upset with him is terrifying, especially after everything he’s given him.

“This partnership is temporary.”

“I know.”

“But I need you to trust me.”

“I know. I do.”

+++

From the moment they cross the threshold to the video store, it becomes evident that something is amiss. 

The look he shares with Blue confirms Jisung’s inkling, both of them moving deeper into the store cautiously. Blue has his hand on his gun tucked into his waistband and that’s oddly comforting despite the fact that Jisung nearly killed him an hour ago. 

A pin dropping would be the loudest noise in the world inside this silent store, even the soft and inaudible rolling of their feet on carpet sounds louder than a gunshot. Jisung bypasses the counter, using the employee door to reach the back rooms. The office comes into sight, door shut tightly. There's murmuring coming from it. 

“He isn’t ready, we can’t send him out on a mission like this yet.” Chan sighs. Ruffling papers follow the sound of his voice, escaping through the door. 

“He’s ready enough. Besides, he’ll have Blue.” Seungmin replies and the tension eases out of Jisung’s shoulders a bit. It’s just Seungmin. Blue raises an eyebrow at him in silent questioning. 

“Will Blue be enough? A mission like this is not a two-man job, it’s crazy to even consider.” Chan’s exasperation is loud and clear, even if his voice is soft and muffled. Jisung can see Blue’s hands gripping the side of the doorframe. 

“It’s a two-man field job. Felix and I will be on comms the whole time and you can oversee us. It’ll be a five-man job, we can extract them if things get shady, Chan we really don’t have a choice here.”

At the lack of another voice, Blue straightens his back and tucks his gun back into his waistband. Jisung mirrors him and turns the handle on the door. 

Both pairs of eyes snap towards him. Chan has his forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, Seungmin sat up on the edge of his desk with a laptop. His fingers clutch around a dagger with an ingrained  _ H.  _ He smirks.

“Speak of the devil.” 

“Hyunjin had nothing to do with this.” Jisung fires back almost immediately, leaning his palms against the leather back of the chair. Seungmin grins at him, the end of the knife in his fingers twirling against his index. 

“Say, what do you think about a gamble, Jisung?” Seungmin slicks off the table, sinister smile setting off his soft features. A drop of blood stains the carpet where the dagger dug too deep, but it’s anything but an accident.

“Seungmin.” Chan warns.

“Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I win. Tails, you win.” A coin slips between his forefinger and his middle, catching the light and glaring directly in Jisung’s eye. Jisung blinks. 

“What’s the bet?”

“That’s part of the gamble.” Seungmin smiles. The coin moves in and out of his fingers, rolling around the back of his hand and landing back where it started. He never looks at it once. 

“I’m in.” Blue speaks up from behind him and Seungmin’s gaze flies to him immediately. If anything, his grin only widens. His thumb pushes up on the coin and it soars in the air in a second. 

Jisung catches the coin mid-air, slapping the side against his hand. It’s heads.

“Marvelous! The deal is on.” Seungmin shouts back at Chan, his face lighting up in pure joy. A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth yet again, a menacing gesture he could have only

learner from Hyunjin. ”You boys have a mission.”

Chan huffs and catches Jisung’s stare of confusion. 

“Get ready, the Aces are having a dinner party, and you’re invited.”

+++

The blue highlights and eyebrow piercing he usually adorns is replaced tonight by a posh white suit and an undetectable gun strapped to his back beneath the clothing. His busted knuckles and raw fingers have been covered with pristine white gloves, any identifying marks packed with concealer. They can leave no trace behind.

“ _ You’re good to go. _ ” Seungmin cracks through their earpieces. Neither of them respond, their feet move on autopilot as they join the back of the line.

“This is the most awful idea they’ve ever come up with, and they have had plenty.” Blue mutters. His black suit is made of silk with lace trim, his hands also covered with gloves. Neutral tones cover his eyes.

“As nervous as I am, I can’t help but be a little excited.” Jisung admits, his hands beginning to sweat as they get closer to the man checking off their names. “I’ve never been to a dinner party before.”

“It’s technically a cocktail party, Chan just doesn’t know the difference.” 

“Same kind of bullshit.”

Their mouths snap shut when the man comes into clear view. He hums at the people in front of them, tapping away at his screen. If all goes to plan, Seungmin should have entered their names into the system.

“Kim Seojoon and Park Hangyeol.” The smile Blue gives the bouncer is fake down to its bone, but the man doesn’t seem all too concerned with his sincerity. He clicks their names and waves them through, attention already focusing on the couple behind them. 

Jisung tenses when the metal detectors come into view, but he quickly relaxes his posture. Changbin built the gun running the length of his spine, it should be undetectable. Blue passes through with ease, standing to the side silently in waiting.

Jisung hesitantly walks through the arch. The lights flash, the alarm screams and the agents are immediately staring at him. Did Changbin fail? 

“Sir, please remove your ring and try again.” Jisung’s eyes dart down to the ring on his middle finger, a silver band with a red gem. It’s a fingerprint collector, made of metal.

“Oh, my mistake. You forget about these pesky things.” He hands the lady his ring and goes through again, without fuss. The ring lands back in his hand and Blue is once again at his side.

“I see Changbin’s technology works.” He comments under his breath. A waiter passes by with a tray of rose-colored drinks in skinny glasses. Blue takes one without looking.

“ _ Don’t sound so shocked, asswipe _ .” Changbin’s voice breaks into their conversation, causing them both to let out a few chuckles. Blue holds the glass by its neck but refuses to take a drink. 

“No one doubts your ability to build something, we just doubt it’s ability to serve its purpose properly.” He replies, sending Jisung a sly smile and a wink. He waterfalls the champagne, never once allowing it to touch his skin.

“ _ Should I have thrown you to the wolves and let you fend for yourselves, then? _ ” Changbin barks. The sudden volume makes Jisung cringe, but he covers it by fixing his jacket.

“Are you implying that’s not what we’re doing at this very moment? Fending for ourselves?” Blue says in return, placing his empty glass on the tray of a passing waitress. His elegance is all in the minor movements, the things Jisung has not yet mastered.

“ _ You wouldn’t even be in that party if it weren’t for me. _ ” Seungmin chimes in. 

“Ah, how could I forget your presence. Thank you, oh mighty savior, for saving my ass a third time.” Blue rolls his eyes as he says it, moving deeper into the crowd with his hand on Jisung’s bicep. They flow in and out of bodies belonging to diplomats and businessmen. It looks like a regular cocktail party from the outside view.

“ _ You two need to split up _ ,” Seungmin bypasses the comment, “ _ Jisung, you’re going to be going through the air vents,  _ Mission Impossible  _ style _ .”

“Are you fucking kidding? Why me?”

“ _ You’re the smaller of you two _ .  _ Go in through the men’s bathroom in the right wing of the building, it should be in the second hallway off of the living room. There will be a ceiling tile in the third bathroom from the door, it’s loose. Push it open and climb up, then kick your way into the vents. Kitchens aren’t far.”  _

“Why is he going there?” Blue drags them into a corner, pulls their figures close to make it seem like they’re speaking to each other. He feels the gun press into his hand.

“ _ The power panel for the right wing is in there. I want him to destroy it and get out of there as fast as he can. Got it?” _

“Got it.” Jisung says instantly, ignoring Blue’s glance.

“ _ Good. When the lights go out, there is only forty-five seconds before the backup generator kicks in. Grab a keycard from one of the diplomat’s pockets, then meet back up and head upstairs.”  _

“Upstairs is guarded, we can’t just walk up.” Blue butts in, pressing closer when a couple squeezes past them. He retreats just as quickly. 

“ _ Unless you’re up for some Oscar-worthy acting, you’re going to have to shimmy across the ledge. Window is locked, but I’ve turned off the alarms.” _

“Alright. Step one of the plan is a go then?” Jisung waits patiently for Seungmin’s affirmative, proceeded by several sounds of clicking and typing. He slips off to the bathroom in the second hallway, making sure no one follows him in.

Every thing is so nice, so expensive and lavish. The sinks are made of marble, the couches made of plush velvet. The floors are spotless, not an ounce of dirt. He pushes open the door to the third stall, the ceiling tile in question giving way easily.

“I’m in the ceiling.” He grunts as he crawls upwards, hands gripping at isolation for extra support. He has to yank his legs up. 

It’s dark and dirty and he’s surrounded by noises with sources he isn’t sure of. He isn’t sure he wants to be sure of those sources. The small beam of light comes from his right and he carefully crawls towards it on his hands and knees. 

A small vent comes into view, large enough for him to squeeze through. He won’t say it out loud, but the small space kind of terrifies him. But, he has a mission to do.

“ _ The kitchens aren’t far at all, you just have to crawl forward and then take a left at the crossroads _ .”

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen this in a video game before?” Jisung grunts, pulling his body along with his elbows. Blue laughs.

“Because you have. It’s like  _ Uncharted _ . Seungmin’s a Nathan Drake simp.”

“I think we’re all Nathan Drake simps.”

“Have you seen Raef?” 

“I am literally in the fucking ceiling.” Jisung interrupts and they both quiet down. He takes a left at the crossroads, having a very difficult time maneuvering just his upper half first. There’s another vent and voices floating up from it. 

From where he sits, he can see two men in a heated discussion, whispering to each other in a language Jisung doesn’t recognize. He waits for one of the men to storm out angrily and when he does, Jisung drops down from the ceiling, digging his fingers into the other man’s pressure point and putting him to sleep.

“You ready, Blue?” 

“Born ready.” 

Jisung takes the keys from the man and slips into the back room, twirling the key ring in his hand. A dagger gifted to him by Hyunjin rests in his pocket. The box is only a few feet away.

Jisung takes out the dagger, unsheathes it, and drives it directly into the wires of the transfuse box. The lights cut immediately. 

Jisung scrambles out, crawling back into the vent and away from the entrance. He hears footsteps and swearing, but none he recognizes.

“ _ Blue? _ ” 

A few beats of silence pass. Jisung hears the generator kick on and the room lights up all at once. 

“Got it.” 

Jisung lets out a sigh of relief, moving back towards the bathroom. He gets down there successfully, but stops when he hears voices yet again, this time, in english. 

“It’s a large shipment, lots of room for risk.” One of the men says. He’s older, wrinkled and shorter. 

“It’ll pay off in the end. High risk, high reward.” The taller one says. They both laugh and another person enters the bathroom. One of the men leaves immediately, the other pretends to be checking his suit in the mirror until the third patron leaves, and Jisung makes his exit when the door shuts behind the second man. 

He slips up next to Blue, who has been waiting by the doors to the bathroom. Blue presents a blue keycard, smiling as he pockets it once again. 

“ _ You’re going to have to go into the library, then climb to the ledge directly above it. Loop around to the main office, break the window if you must.”  _

They move in sync through the crowd, Blue’s hand returning to his bicep. He leads them through the bodies all trying to get better looks at their host and through those who turn their noses at any and everyone around them.

Blue stops in front of a set of large and dark french doors, pretending he needs to take a call. He slides the keycard in at the library, opening it up. The shelves are ceiling-high with books, a ladder pressed up against the wall. Blue locks the door behind them.

“We have to get out this window and climb.” He restates, heading for the window in the far corner. Jisung just shakes his head, his adrenaline-packed brain screaming at him to take a break and think through it. He can’t stop.

“Is the ledge even large enough?” He joins Blue at the window, observing the jagged ledge that stems from the window. It’s old and looks like it could crumble any second. 

“It’s going to have to be.” Blue swings his right leg over the sill, taking a moment to adjust the sleeves on his suit. The ledge shakes under his weight, a few pieces and flakes falling to the ground. They’re already several stories up in the air.

He follows his partner out, having to turn his feet in order to fit. His knees shake, back pressed to the stone exterior of the structure. Their steps are small and cautious, hearts beating against the thin skin of their throats as they move further away from their only exit. Blue takes careful steps toward where the ledge turns a corner, arms fanned out and nailed to the wall.

The ledge juts out at the edge, just enough to allow them to shimmy past. Blue goes first, making it to the other side with ease. It’s a little more complicated for Jisung. The heel of his foot gets caught on the point and he feels his grip slip before he anticipates the fall.

He doesn’t fall. Blue’s arm darts out and secures his waist, yanking him back against the wall. His fingers grasp at smooth stone. 

“You have to go first, I’ll follow you up.” Blue whispers, his head tilted back and eyes on the ledge above them. Jisung follows his gaze, his breath stuttering when he sees the height of the ledge.

“I’m not tall enough.” 

“I’ll give you a boost.” 

Before he can process the words spoken to him, Blue is leaning over with his arms looped together. Jisung doesn’t even have room to protest, shuffling closer. He stretches upwards, the tips of his fingers flexing as Blue’s strong arms engulf his ankles.

He launches upward, almost faster than he’s prepared for, but secured the end of the ledge at the last possible second. Pulling himself up is the most difficult thing he’s ever done, worse than any pull up at the gym. 

“What now?” He whispers down and Blue rolls his eyes. His hand shoots up and the message registers too late.

“How am I supposed to pull you up? I have no foundation.”

“I don’t care how you do it, just get me up there!” 

Jisung unbuttons his jacket, pressing down with his feet as hard as the ledge would allow. He can feel how it begins to give way under the weight but he tosses a sleeve of his jacket down anyway. Blue grabs on and he prays to any God who may receive his prayers that they don’t fall to their deaths.

Blue is much more skilled than him, it’s a fact he tends to forget. He argues with his partner about their skill sets almost exclusively, but he’s never really seen Blue in action. He pulls himself up quickly, with the strength of a lumberjack and never even rips the jacket. That could be due to it’s expensive material, Jisung tells himself.

His partner takes the lead once again, leading them to a large window overlooking the gardens. The room inside is lush, made of silks and velvets and gold. Blue breaks the window.

“You had better fucking hope nobody heard that.” Jisung grumbles, his partner flying through the window without an ounce of regard for the shards threatening to slice him. Jisung is more careful.

“Dig through everything, we have to find it.”

The room is built exactly like Jisung would expect a wealthy businessman’s office to be built. Two red couches face each other, a single recliner facing them and the doorway. The back wall is adorned in photos and framed documents encrusted in gold. The table is made of Grenadile, crafted expertly. 

The wall to his right is covered mostly by a family portrait, deep red paint surrounding the beautiful lineage. The frame is odd though, the usual gold outlines being replaced by silver this time. Jisung stops. 

“Blue,” His partner turns upon hearing his name whispered into the otherwise silent room, “this portrait seems weird, yeah?”

Blue leaves his station at one of the desks he was ripping apart and joins Jisung in the center of the room, staring at the painting. He tilts his own head, observing the fine paints and the odd framing.

“It seems a little strange, though I can’t really put my finger on why.” Eyebrows pinched, Blue stared at the portrait with obvious confusion. Jisung hums, waiting silently to see if he will catch it on his own.

“The framing is weird, it’s older.” 

“It’s silver.” Jisung fills in for him and Vlue nods slowly. He approaches the painting like a cat on the prowl, careful and weightless. Jisung scurries over to stand next to him.

“It’s sunken into the wall. It’s not actually a painting.” His fingers carefully trace the outlines of the frame. A frown settles on his face. 

“Look for a switch.” 

They both begin their search around the room, looking under tables and rummaging through desks. Jisung turns over the desk chair, nearly knocking off the laptop on accident. Something in the desk rattles when the leg hits the side.

“That sounded weirdly hollow.” Blue says, places the papers back he has flipping through back in their drawer. Jisung hits the desk again, the same rattling sound coming through the wood. He squeezes underneath, shaking the legs.

The right underside of the desk has a jagged edge and Jisung shakes it a little more firmly and pulls. The faux wood pulls out of the structure, revealing a small switch. He flips it. The portrait opens.

There’s a small space, no bigger than a dumbwaiter behind the portrait. A single file sits behind it, packed thick with documents. Blue slowly removes it, sitting it on the desk.

“These are their younger recruits.” He says, flipping through the profiles of several younger children. Many of them are in their teen years or have just graduated high school. It makes Jisung sick to his stomach.

“This is how many runners they’re using?” He picks up one girl’s file, a girl who reminds him of Jeongyeon. She is staring at the camera without fear, without anything other than resentment. She’s strong. She’s barely twenty. 

“I must’ve been wrong. They don’t use this many kids for running drugs, it’s dangerous.” He flips another page, a fourteen-year-old boy pictured on the file. His heart plummets.

“They’re using them for something.” Jisung mutters, having to divert his eyes from the faces of these kids. He can’t even imagine what it must be like for them.

“Oh my god.” Blue exclaims with a gasp, wide eyes focused in on a girl’s picture, “I know her. I know her, that’s Ryujin, she went to my high school.”

“She’s twenty-two.” He observes. Ryujin is older than the others they’ve been seeing, not anywhere near the age of the kids they tend to use for running. 

“International.” Blue whispers, eyes nearly bugging out his head when the pieces click together, “Fleming said they’re starting a drug trade so they can go international.”

Blue looks Jisung square in the eyes, horrified and alarmed.

“They aren’t runners. They’re smugglers.” 

Voices travel down the hall, dangerously close to the door. Jisung panics, snapping the file shit and shoving it in his suit. 

“We have to go.” He barks, already climbing out of the window again. Blue grabs at his pant leg, out-of-breath from his realization.

“They’ll know we were here, we won’t make it far.” 

“The window is busted and the place is ransacked, they’ll know we were here regardless. Besides, you’re a getaway driver.” The door smashes open and Blue flies out behind him.

They climb down the ledge as fast as they can to the sound of shouts and the outer gates closely. The soles of their shoes hit the ground running, dodging bullets flying at their forms. The gates are coming down.

“Slide!”

Their thighs hit the ground and the momentum propels them underneath the closing metal before it secures in place. They’re back on their feet in seconds, running harder than they’ve ever had. Muscles in Jisung’s legs ache, his feet burning with the pressure and speed he continues at. His lungs refuse to offer him an ounce of peace. 

A fence comes into view and they both run as hard as they can toward it. Jisung jumps, looping his hands and feet through almost halfway up. He frantically climbs up and over, dropping down on the other side and taking off yet again. He hears the sound of Blue’s footsteps beside him. 

“Parking lot!” Blue screams, dodging trees and roots in the way through the short patch of woods. The parking lot is mostly gravel, and very dimly lit. Blue tears a chauffeur from the red car he’s driving and Jisung hops in the passenger’s seat just as quickly. 

Blue slams the gear into reverse, his foot pressing down on the petal and throwing the car backwards. They break through another fence and slide onto the highway, tires squealing in protest as Blue begins to fly down the road. Only seconds after driving, a group of black cars pull out onto the highway behind them with the same urgency.

The venue is on a mountain, meaning Blue has to tear down the hills with the extra threat of death having over them. He does a mostly fine job, if not for the bullets firing at their tires.

“Red, you’ve gotta do something before they hit us!” He shouts over the sound of the stereo. Jisung removes the gun strapped to his back, checking it’s bullets and leaning out of the window on the passenger’s side. He sits on the sill, firing back at the three cars closely tailing them.

His first bullet connects with the front left tire of one of the cars, making it swerve. The second bullet hits the other tire and the sudden breaking of the car forced it forwards. It crashes on its head. The two others fly around it. 

Jisung shoots four bullets at the next car, the swerving on it nearly crashing the other one following them. It swerves too hard to the right and breaks through the guardrails. The cliffs will make a smooth landing point.

He fires the remaining bullets at the last car, but their passenger leans out of the window too, firing a straight bullet that barely misses him. He shoots again and Blue swerves at just the right time. The bullet barely grazes his left arm. He ducks back in the car. 

“Shit! They got me. You have any bullets?” The car takes a sharp turn onto the next round they meets, the black car behind them following. Blue directs their car past two or three in traffic and presses the pedal harder.

He slaps a gun into Jisung’s hand. Jisung grins and leans out of the window again, shooting directly for the drivers of the other car. Their windshield collapses as bullets fly through it and Jisung can’t even see if he’s hitting his targets with how badly the car is moving. A truck is approaching on the other side of the road, unbeknownst to the driver trying to keep his car on the road and his guy alive. He moves into the other lane, the truck immediately crashes into him.

Jisung ducks in once more, handing Blue his half-empty gun back. The car jumps another highway and immediately enters the interstate. Blue doesn’t say a word, moving in and out of other cars honking their horns and narrowly avoiding crashes. 

Jisung removes the file from his suit, shocked and relieved to find it still intact. His eyes immediately are drawn to the girl Blue knows, Ryujin. She’s pretty, her hair is short and dyed blonde in the photo, but he’s sure she is no longer a blonde. They wouldn’t keep updated photos on file.

He looks through more of the photos. He doesn’t recognize any names or faces, but he commits all of them to memory. Jisung cannot allow the Aces to use these children this way. 

One girl’s file, a nineteen-year-old named Wonyoung, catches his eye. Her skills are incredible, but it’s the name at the very bottom of her file that has him stopping in his tracks.

_ Found by Chou Tzuyu.  _

“Hey, when someone is found by a member, what exactly does that mean?” Jisung lets the question slip past, thumbing at the corner of the file.

“With the Aces, it means you are theirs. If they found you, it usually means they saved your life or you owe the Aces money and they tracked you down. It means until further notice, you belong to them.” 

For the second time that night, his stomach sinks. His mind wonders back to his sister, back to her frantic calls at night and exasperated tone when she spoke of her work. He recalls her “project partners” always having the same bad traits that she would complain about. Had someone “found” her? Had she become someone’s servant? 

Tzuyu doesn’t seem like a bad person. He likes to think perhaps she would use the system of “owning” another to take care of them. He likes to think that. Then again, she’s working with the Aces. 

“Blue.” He says and his partner hums, “What’s different about running and smuggling other than the distance?” 

Blue hesitates, gulps. His fingers turn white around the wheel.

“They pack the drugs in small bags, like dumplings. They force the smuggler to swallow them and then board a plane. Once they reach their destination, they barf the bags up, wash them off and deliver them to the dealer.” Blue swallows hard, like the mental image forms a lump in his throat, “But in order for a smuggle to be so drastic to use that kind of measure, the drug has to be deadly. Which means if one of those bags breaks…”

“They’re sacrificing these kids. Using them like pawns.” Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, hands pressing into them.

“And you know what the worst part is?” Blue laughs bitterly, like he can’t even believe the next words he’s about to say, “I don’t even think that’s the worse of what they’re doing to those kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Smuggling, sending them across the border, basically kidnapping them and putting them under ownership?” 

“Oh dear god.” Jisung breathes, “They’re not just trading drugs, they’re trading people.”


	2. The Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things begin to get messy, Han Jisung quickly comes to the realization that things are not as they seem—and luxuries like friendship and safety are just out of reach of what he can afford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for this chapter:  
> \- Gambling  
> \- Violence  
> \- Mentioned violence against women  
> \- Gang Violence  
> \- Murder  
> \- Death  
> \- Suicidal Tendencies  
> \- Blood  
> \- Guns/Knives/Weapons
> 
> Most of the above is simply mentioned and not described in detail, however I want you guys to be safe. A game of Russian Roulette is played in this chapter, some people may choose to bypass this type of gambling. That is perfectly okay, the game starts at the line “They play a simple game of Blackjack.” and ends at the line “Come on, boys.” Again, this is not how I imagine the real people to be. Hyunjin is very lovely in my eyes, a very precious soul, his depiction in this fic is a work of fiction and has no intent to tarnish your view of him or encourage you to view him in the way the character is written. Other characters make internal comments regarding Hyunjin’s mental state, but again this is not about actual Hyunjin. I cannot express how much I am begging you to take this work of fiction as a work of fiction. Special thank to this parts Beta reader, citrusblush ! Enjoy part two!

Jazz music leaks through the speakers, drowned out just barely by the sounds of boisterous laughter and charming promises as empty as a black hole. The room smells faintly of cigar smoke and expensive alcohol, a dozen corks from wine bottles overflowing the brim of a trash can. Lined with couches and tables, all serving as a place of comfort for its occupants; tonight, their lives belong to the game.

Every table has a new bloodthirsty game, the cards itching to slice the raw fingers of whoever dares touch them. Their victims tonight are wealthy, high-rollers with a taste for something only to be described as “the luck of the draw.” They feed off their adrenaline, the same chemical pumping through the body of their opponent. It’s a night made for blood, and blood it shall have. 

For some of these betters, the cards are nothing but a piece of a game to them. As for them, their win or loss is guaranteed from the moment they step behind the curtain. Either weak or powerful, they’re able to be read like books by their fellow gamblers.

Few in the room manage to bluff their way to a table where they remain a wall of indifference, even manage to keep their poker face throughout a game. Only one man in here tonight has remained cold in the face of danger, stoic and unbothered by the impending threat of losing his life. 

The man who cuts his tongue on the deck of cards, whose fingers know the ridges like that his own skin, bares no resemblance to the other occupants of this room. He is not a CEO, a founder of anything but his own arrogance, he is not one of them. He speaks not of his name, but it doesn’t take the several knowledgeable gentlemen in the space to hear it echo in their minds the longer he plays. 

The Blue Angel is a sign of death for any man who has cheated or lied his way out of a game, out of a debt. The grim reaper for businessmen, he visits them in the night when nobody is around to care about their screams, and he rips them apart to carry the pieces he can reuse along with him. He sends them to a Hell worse than Dante’s ninth circle.

Plastic dice roll across the table to the right of him. Oh, how his opponent must ache to be playing a game he could cheat at. But alas, it’s more fun this way. It’s more fun to watch the fear creep into the corner of their eyes, the slight twitch of their lips as panic sets in, the shaking of their hands when their heart rate spikes. The Blue Angel lives for this feeling, he dies for it.

“Go on,” A voice as sweet as crushed berries says, rolling off his tongue like flowing silk, “it’s your turn.” 

The shaking frame, of what was once one of the most powerful men in the room, now just another hopeless, fallen servant. Grasping at the Blue Angel’s ankles, he nearly collapses against the table. Blue tsks, running his fingers along the table made of fine wood. He would hate to see something so delicate crumble under the weight of a sinner’s regret.

“You…!” Large arms shake the table under pressed palms, beads of sweat dotting the table under the man’s hanging head, “You are cheating! You have to be!”

“Oh, now, now.” Blue sighs, “I don’t believe in cheating. It doesn’t make the game fun to know the outcome of it before it even starts, does it?” 

“I don’t know how, but you are! There’s no way you can memorize fifty-four cards and their placements!” The voice that emerges from the man’s lips is nothing short of desperate and choked. Tears well in his eyes, perhaps due to frustration. He stares at a blank wall.

“I’ll loan you twenty-thousand dollars for one last round.” Blue says with a smile, “All or nothing. But be warned, Choi Kyungwan. If you lose this game, your life and everything in it belongs to me.” 

From the crowd, a dealer appears to shuffle the cards once more. Kyungwan blinks his moist eyelids, rids them of evidence that he is crumbling. Blue taps the tip of his fingernail against the table.

“Fine. One last game.” Kyungwan croaks. Blue lights up in undeniable joy. 

“Wonderful!”

One hundred and four cards join the table once more in random fashion. The dealer’s quick and steady hand spread them evenly, taking a single step back as the cue. The game is ready, it’s up to the players now. 

Double concentration is a game of memorization combined with simple luck. Two full decks are distributed face-down on the table, a total of one hundred and four cards. Unlike normal concentration, both the value _and_ the suit have to match in order for it to be a pair. Each card only has one match.

The winner is whoever can collect fifty-four cards, over half a deck. A simple children’s game shouldn’t be too difficult, especially not for such a high stakes gambler as Choi Kyungwan, the man who single-handedly scammed dozens of his colleagues out of their life’s savings. Surely, a silly little game like this wouldn’t hurt him.

“The bet is twenty-thousand each.” The dealer announces, voice booming through its echo, “As he is the winner of the last round, the Blue Angel has first turn. You may begin.”

“Ooh, how exciting.” The Angel’s shredded fingers skim the card backs, ghosting over the thickened paper. One card on the right side of the table snaps onto its face. King of Clubs. Another. Four of Spades.

“Your turn.” He chirps and folds his hands behind his back. Sweat drips down the face of Choi Kyungwan, a bead splashing against the ground with the force of a typhoon. Fingers vibrating against the table flip two cards at random. Another miss. His inhale shakes his lungs. 

Another wrong set of cards flips. Another follows it. In the fifth round, The Blue Angel matches a pair. He misses the next turn. 

The dealer and the crowd around watch on silently as The Blue Angel continues his attack with grace, with nonchalance. 

His face is relaxed, stoic, a perfect picture of a man who has already won and knows as much. His opponent is soaked through, staining his pressed tuxedo, the pinnacle of a man who has already lost so much and will continue to fail until he has nothing left but the bones under his skin and the teeth behind his lips. He will continue to fail until he’s been ravished and ripped apart by wolves, until he is nothing but another crushed insect under the sole of the Blue Angel’s heel.

Another set of cards flip, then another. The game continues like this, a silent match between two of the city’s deadliest criminals. Only one of them will leave here tonight with joy in their heart. The other will suffer a crushing defeat.

Blue has thirty-six cards in front of him, each turned on their faces and claimed as his. Eighteen matches of the fifty-two that once lay on the table for taking. He stares down his opponent and his fourteen matches. 

“This isn’t possible! This game is rigged, it has to be!” Kyungwan’s trembling hands once again connect with the table, thin legs wobbling under the weight of a grown man. All eyes fall on Blue, who seeks about as unimpressed as he did when he walked in. There is but one difference, the fire in his eyes has intensified.

“It is quite rich for you to call me a cheat.” The words flow out easily, calm despite the accusations he stares directly in their faces, “A man without honor accuses another of forfeiting it. It’s nearly laughable, wouldn't you say?” 

A silence takes the surrounding crowd, spreading to the very edges of the room. Ear-splitting bass can still be heard beyond the curtain, but it is only background noise to the words that pass Blue’s lips. At this very moment, whatever he says next is the most important sentence in the world.

“How dare you question my integrity.” Kyungwan grits through his chattering teeth. If someone were to be close enough, they could hear the grinding of his teeth against one another. It’s enough to send a cringe down the spine of a stone.

“I question more than your integrity, Choi Kyungwan.” Delicate fingers flip a card. Ace of Clubs. “I question your position in this room, at this table. I question your wealth, your skill.”

Another card flip. Ace of Hearts. One flutter of his eyelids has Kyungwan staring directly into the soul of the Blue Angel.

“I question why you ever believed you have earned the title as my opponent.” 

“How dare you!” Kyungwan lunges forward. Two arms encircle his own and keep him from crossing the imaginary barrier between him and the Angel. He struggles against his captors, but they don’t let go. “You’re nothing more than a scummy street rat, a reject! How dare you betray us! How dare _you_ call yourself _my_ opponent!”

“If I’m nothing more than a street rat,” Blue chuckles, the sound dark and from the very back of his throat, “then what does that make you? You like to flaunt your money and your skill, but you are nothing but a fraud. Everybody in this room knows what you did, Kyungwan.” 

The table lets out a squeak of protest when Blue’s hands find it, cold and empty eyes boring into the frame of the other. His blunt nails lightly scrape the creaking wood. There is a collective inhale, but nobody lets it out.

“We all know what happened to your boss, what you did to reach the top. You sit on a throne you didn’t earn, not even through stealing. Your partner did all the work, but where is that partner now?” A louder squeak from the table mirrors the steady rise of Blue’s voice. It betrays no anger nor frustration, a blank slate. “Where is he buried alongside every piece of evidence of your cheating? Where is _your_ betrayal to the Aces, _your_ betrayal to your own brother? Do you have any excuse to make for yourself?” 

Kyungwan retracts, but the arms around his own stay secure. The side of Blue’s mouth twitches. 

“Do you, Park Beomseok?”

As the word is spoken, even the smallest of movements ceases. Not even a hushed whisper dare be uttered as the words sink into the bones of every on-looker. The man himself is frozen is shock—and fear.

“You…” The man—now revealed to be Park Beomseok—chokes on his own defense. The whispers pick up then, the crowd going into a rapid frenzy of muttered inquiry. 

“That’s Park Beomseok?”

“ _The_ Park Beomseok? The one who murdered Park Beomsoo? Isn’t he the one Sanghoon has been chasing the trail of all these years?”

“Sounds like you’re pretty well known.” Blue flips another card on the table. Ace of Spades. He flips another. Ace of Diamonds. He continues flipping, never missing one, never looking down, until he has fifty-four pairs stacked between his smooth fingers.

“What a fun game.” He smirks, the cards moving in and out of those fingers, “In fact, it was so fun, I’m willing to forget the twenty thousand. I think I’d rather have whatever your bounty is worth.” 

The cards hit the table all at once, the loud noise startling a shaking Beomseok. 

“Oh yeah, just a little tip for you. You might want to watch the way the dealer shuffles, it helps to predict how they’ll lay out the cards.” He sends a wink over his shoulder and turns, burying himself in the nooks of the crowd around them, all too busy murmuring the stories of Park Beomseok to process his departure. 

It’s not the end of the night, not the end of the night’s gambling either. He knows this when the dealer follows him, the cards neatly stacked in their boxes and held in the palm of his hand. He spares him a glance on his way to the bar in the back corner, far away from where the pieces of his game are still being retrieved.

“You up for a game once you change out of those hideous clothes?” He speaks to the wall, though he knows the dealer hears him. A stool slides out three chairs down, the dealer filling the seat moments later. 

“That depends. You know I’m best at poker.” The Red Devil replies.

“I do know that. Which is why you are essential to my next plan.” Blue takes a sip of the lemon water placed in front of him. The cards shuffling and slashing through the air can be heard from his left.

“What did you have in mind?” 

Another hour ticks back on the wall clock at the front of the room. It is nearing midnight, the witching hour in which the city’s gamblers, who double as its finest men, begin to risk everything. The room has long since been erased of the Blue Angel’s match with Park Beomseok, the building walls outside wiped clean of his blood from where the gunshot sounded only thirty minutes ago.

A new crowd has formed in its place, standing around a table only three away from the last tragedy of the night. The Blue Angel stands back, his lower body pressed firmly into the countertop. His win only guarantees how the next phase of his plan plays out.

Within seven minutes, a man with a chest tattoo and a nasty snarl stalks over to him. Dressed in a thin grey suit and red tie, his eyes trace Blue’s lax figure with interest. The latter says nothing, a skinny black straw twisting around the ice in his drink.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” The man greets, his voice coming out in a long grunt. A lemon winds around the straw, flips back down into the ice. 

“Is it?” He responds and observes the man as he gawks. A moment passes in complete silence and when Blue makes no move to continue the conversation, the man gathers himself and sends a chilling smile his way.

“Perhaps, I could buy you a real drink?” He holds his meaty hand out to the bar in invitation, the scrambling bartender nearly breaking a glass to make whatever usual he’s ordered in the past. Blue pulls the lemon from his drink and bites into it.

“No thanks.” He replies, a voice of airy nonchalance, “I don’t drink.”

The man grins and retracts his hand, stepping just shy of too close to be friendly. The hair on the back of Blue’s neck stands at full attention. 

“Then, perhaps, a game.” His true intention all along is not surprising, nor is it masked in any way. Ice rattles in the glass when it meets the bar, followed by a raised eyebrow from the smaller of the two.

“What game?” Reclining against the edge of the counter, he waits patiently and silently for the answer he knows won’t satisfy him.

“Poker.” The man says the word as if it is the greatest thing in the world. He says it as if it is a revolutionary concept, nothing like the game the other hundred men in the room have been betting their lives on the entire night. 

“Boring.” Blue sighs. A dismissive wave of his hand matches his words. “I figured your proposition would be more interesting.”

“What game do you suggest then?” 

There’s a pause, a moment of faux thinking. Blue’s eyes find the ceiling, pretending to turn his choice over in his head. He feigns settlement and drops his chin back down.

“Tell you what, since you seem to like poker, let’s go with a version of it.” He grins, something that can either be sinister or relaxed, “How about Blind-Man’s Bluff?”

“You’re a bit of a wild card, aren’t you, Angel?” The man laughs with his full body. 

A man enters the room quietly, black slacks and a red dress shirt rolled up to the elbows hugs him nicely. Blue raises an eyebrow at his entrance and that alone gains the other man’s attention. 

“Why don’t we make this a bit more fun for the both of us, yeah?” Blue’s whistle is loud and shrill but it snatches the attention of the newcomer. He turns with wide eyes and a look close to petrified. 

“You up for a round of Blind-Man’s Bluff?” The large man in front of Blue asks and all eyes fall on the new addition to the room. His cheeks make him look younger than he is, with big doe eyes that convey the look of an innocent lamb.

“Sure,” The kid croaks out the word, “I-I can play.”

“Wonderful. Hey, you!” The large man calls to another standing only a few feet from the new kid, “You’re joining us.”

In Blind-Man’s Bluff, each player is dealt two cards. One of which they may look at, the other goes on their forehead. The strongest play is a pair, in which the numbers match. The second strongest is a suit, which is an explanation of its own. The weakest hand is when neither number nor suit match, in other words, a pig. 

The players bet using special chips, each marked at a different value according to their betting amount. Ten chips are given to each, a tenth of what they bet, and only five may be bet at a time. The winner takes the pot. 

“I won pretty big tonight, I’ll put 100 thousand in the pot.” Blue uncaps his pen, shielding his board from prying eyes as he writes down his amount. The new kid nearly collapses.

“I like your style, Angel.” The larger man replies, following Blue’s lead and uncapping a pen. “I’ll match that. 100 thousand in the pot.”

Shaking hands grasp the third board on the table, the pen squeezed tightly between his three fingers as he bends his entire body over the blank canvas. Prying eyes try to see through him, but he manages to shield the number. The man raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t question someone so clearly nauseous. 

“I’ll bet twenty. Twenty thousand.” The board slides into his lap face-down, once again hidden from the gazes of those who wish to know more. The last kid at the table swipes the pen and displays his board for the world to she.

“I’ll bet fifty!” He exclaims and allows everyone to watch on as he scribbles down a fifty with three zeros. The pen makes an awful squeaking sound, a side effect of his white-knuckle grip. He places the board in his lap once everybody gets a good look at it.

“I’ll take the yellow chips. It’s my lucky color.” The large man says, snatching up the ten yellow chips displayed on the table. The small chips look tiny when crushed between his claws.

“I’ll take blue.” The Angel smirks, delicate hands sliding them over his way. His eyes fox on the kid across from him, the one who looks about two seconds from vomiting. 

“Red.” 

The last kid eagerly swipes green, letting them fall from their neat stacks and pool around his calloused hands. The dealer emerges, checks everybody’s balance with a neutral expression. She steps back from the table to observe and reads off the rules they all know well.

“Hey, looney tunes.” The man calls to the brunet whose teeth clamp around a single green chip. He grins in response, flashing pearly whites as if revealing a row of fangs. “What’s your name?”

“Why does it matter?” He laughs around his chip, smacking his lips together when he removes it and threads it through long fingers, “We’re here to play, aren't we? What’s with the formalities?” 

“I want to make sure I know who I’m playing with.” The man cocks an eyebrow at the fluid motions of the kid’s body, the way he rolls the chip over his hands smoothly with a manic look in his eyes. “Did you come out of the psych ward?”

“Don’t worry.” The kid laughs, bucking his hand and sending the chip flying. He catches it as it comes down, dangerous eyes turning on the man as he hugs the chip in his palm. “They weren’t able to hold me down for that long.” 

A sharp laugh sounds from the man’s left, the lunatic’s right. Blue has his hand covering most of his face, quiet laughs concealed poorly behind his small hands. His eyes sparkle under the golden lighting.

“Let’s play the game, shall we?”

Two cards are dealt to each player, each of them flipping the first onto its face and holding the second up to their heads. Red’s fingers tap nervously at the wooden table, the clear shaking of the card held between his fingers betraying his attempts to breathe steadily. Blue smirks when the kid sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws.

“The betting may now begin.” The dealer says in a voice of honey, the rest of the deck floating between her slender hands. Her eyes trail after every motion, the slightest of movements catches her attention. A smirk threatens her lips, but she keeps quiet.

“Yellow, you have the deal.” 

“No need in dicking around.” A yellow chip meets the center of the table. Yellow smiles wide enough to crack his lips, stealing another peak at his card laying face-down. 

“One green chip.” Green tosses it out, his body vibrating in excitement. Both of the unknowns shake for entirely different reasons. Green can't keep still in his seat, while Red sweats through the back of his. 

“Call, one Blue chip.” A sparkling sapphire joins the pile. All eyes turn to Red.

“I’ll fold.” He mumbles and drops the card from his precipitated forehead. The back of his sleeve swipes across it, taking the moisture with it. Each player presents their hands.

“Three and four, pig.” Blue says with a smile too sweet to mean anything.

“Eight and six, pig.” Green giggles.

“Ten and two, suit. Looks like I win that one, fellas.” Yellow’s massive hands sweep the three chips toward him, stacking them neatly at his left. 

The next of the cards are dealt, sliding against the table with a satisfying _swish!_ Green has the deal.

“I’ll bet one little green chip.” He says.

“Fold.” Comes from Blue, his card bending under the weight of his fingers pressing into its back. 

“Fold.” Red repeats and all eyes turn to Yellow.

“Raise. Four yellow chips.” The four chips hit the table, the sounds of rolling plastic music to ears of the highest better. He locks eyes with Green, who seems nothing if not amused.

“I don’t think I have the funds to match that.” He speaks through a laugh, close to hysterical and manic, but he doesn’t falter his enthusiasm. “I’ll fold.”

“Seeing as everyone besides Yellow has folded, he is deemed the victor of this round.” The dealer interjects, once again collecting the cards to shuffle and redistribute. 

“This is good.” Blue remarks as he lays down his card. Red watches him with an intensity close to a prey observing its predator. Still, quiet, careful not to draw attention.

“I’ll bet one Blue chip.” Softly, the chip meets the table. An explosion from his right startles the table. It takes a full second of processing for them to realize it’s laughter. Yellow is laughing.

“So, you’re finally ready to bet, huh?” He scoffs, three yellow chips following after, “Three yellow chips.”

“Interesting.” Blue speaks through his chuckle, thumbing at the one visible card he holds. “I guess there’s no need in skirting around. Raise, three Blue chips.”

Yellow barely contains his gasp. Red, however, lets it slip out, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. Toes curl in his shoes, his back tense and locked. Fifty thousand on a single play. Blue is ridiculous.

“Call, two yellow chips.” 

The game drags on like that, a constant struggle between the only two big betters at the table. Green begins to look bored by turn four, and Red has filed his fingernails down to their nubs. His foot taps anxiously on the floor beneath them, praying he won’t lose twenty thousand in this bet. 

“Turn four, Red has the deal.”

Taking a breath only a hair away from steady, Red swallows hard and peaks at his card. He controls his expression to his best ability, believing to have succeeded when he places a single chip in the center of the table.

“I wager one red chip.” 

Green folds.

“Okay. I’ll call with one yellow chip.” 

“Same. One yellow chip.” Blue adds his to the pile. His eyes lock with Red’s, something deep and condescending bubbling beneath black irises. Red stares back into them for as long as he can manage. 

The snark in a single gaze without ever speaking a word gives it all away. The Blue Angel is mocking him, ridiculing his cautious plays. He thinks he has this game in the bag, he thinks this is child’s play. Blue takes him for a fool. 

Not anymore.

“Raise! Three red chips!” They bounce against the table with the force of a pitched baseball, scattering into the pile and clanking around loudly. 

“Are you stupid?” Yellow asks, totally amused at his sudden outburst. He raises an eyebrow. “If you lose this one, you’ve only got two chips left. You’re betting all that on a little gamble like this? I… don’t call.” 

The entire table pauses. Yellow lets out another laugh, like nails on a chalkboard. Red flinches instinctively.

“You think I haven’t figured it out by now?” He asks with a grin, “You two are working together. You couldn't have made it more obvious by picking him out in a crowd, it was way too sloppy. I will give you props for riling him up though, really had me doubting there for a second.

“But you’re not that good. You see, I knew it was an act the second you made a remark about your card, you’re only able to see one and no matter how high, it’s beat by a suit. The only way you’d bet that much is if you knew you had a suit locked down. I fold.”

Yellow sits back with his arms folded over his chest, expression smug and arrogant. It radiates off of him, protruding the room in its entirety. His look of pride is only struck down by the shrill laugh that comes from Red.

“I fold as well.” The words break through Blue’s chuckle. Yellow watches them in complete confusion.

“I’m so glad I went big on this one. You’re pretty sharp.” Red turns over his cards and lets out another manic laugh, “But you were betting against a pig the whole time!”

Turn five goes by smoothly, but it’s turn six that exposes the worst of it all. Blue catches the first look and Red catches the second moment. Their eyes lock and the pieces fall into place.

“It’s funny, you know.” Red smiles. “You were so offended by us cheating, or rather by how obvious we made it, but you’re doing the same exact thing.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yellow growls. He’s losing to Blue and bad, all of his anger beginning to build up in his gut. His hands shake under the table from sheer frustration.

“I’ll give you credit, it was a smart move once you figured out our plan, to get someone you know to play for you. You and Green have been betting against one another all night, but I bet you thought you could work together this time.” Red giggles at the end of his sentence, looking to Blue.

“It was a good plan and probably would’ve been very effective.” The table all turns to stare at Yellow, “If only you hadn’t recruited one of our own.” 

Yellow dead eyes snap to Green, his fury only growing when he sees the boy giggling. Caught between his teeth, he stretches a piece of bubblegum wrapped around his finger, twirling it the way a girl twirls her hair. He laughs when it breaks.

“That was really fun there for a while!” His laughter booms across the table, shaking the structure, “But I guess now it’s time to truly play, isn't it?” 

A sweat breaks across Yellow’s forehead, perspiration leaking and staining his suit collar. The new card joins the sticky surface of his forehead in the seventh turn. His hands shake.

“Green, it’s your play.” He says through gritted teeth. There isn’t any way Green is loyal to the two scammers sitting at the table. No, he’s simply cut a deal with them beforehand, Green isn’t anything like the clean-cut and stoic faces that join them. There’s still a chance to use him to his advantage.

“What was the right terminology again?” Green blinks his eyes innocently, “Was it call or fold?”

“No! It’s raise, you imbecile!” Yellow slams his hands on the table, rage flowing off of him in thick waves. This is not happening, not to someone as powerful as him. 

“You’re the only imbecile at this table.” Blue laughs. “Even if you had a good hand, why would you tell us?” 

Red giggles. “We fold.”

The next turn is eight.

“Call. One Red chip.” Yellow throws the plastic out. His breathing is controlled, heartbeat inaudible. As long as his hands don’t decide to shake once again, he can convince them he has a good hand.

“Wow, confident, are we?” Red looks to Blue across the table, the other’s emotionless face giving him seemingly nothing, “Kidding! If you were _really_ sure of yourself, you’d be betting a Blue chip!”

A pair of twos hit the table. Yellow nearly breaks the handrails of the chair.

“I’ll call with a Blue chip.” Green chirps in the ninth turn, his blinding white smile sickening the stomachs of every bystander. By far the most dangerous player at this table is Blue, but Green wins the most dangerous person in the room by a landslide.

“Call. One yellow chip.” Blue sounds too upbeat for someone engaged in such a gamble. He’s cocky. 

“I’ll fold.” Red says with just as much enthusiasm. 

“Times up. Show your hands.” Yellow lays his cards flat. He has a suit of clubs, and eight and a four. All eyes turn to Blue who shows his as well. A spade suit of five and three. Green has a pig. 

“That’s what you get!” Yellow shouts in glory, his hands raking the chips toward his own massive body. “I’m going to drain you for every last penny you cheating bitches are worth!” 

Nobody says anything. Blue chuckles. The tenth and final turn begins.

“Call. One red chip.” Comes from Green, his eyes shooting up and locking with Yellow’s. His card on the left slants slightly, the exact method they’d been using before. Green is still on his side!

“Call. One Blue chip.” Blue says behind his one visible card, a poorly contained laugh slipping through.

“Raise. Three Blue chips.” Red doesn’t react when he raises. Yellow watches for a tell. A twitch of the mouth, a tap of the finger, a fidget. He watches for anything that gives him away, but there is nothing. He watches Blue as well, but comes up empty.

There has to be a reason they’re betting so big, there has to be.

“Call. One red chip.” Green smirks and Yellow feels the fear creep into his gut. His eyes watch Blue’s cards, trying to see through the backs of them. His nails bend under the pressure of his fingers curling in his pants. He sweats again and swallows the taste of dread in his mouth.

“Players please reveal your hands.” 

“Oh, would you look at that?” Blue holds up his hand, “A two-ten pig.”

“I have a pair of eights!” Green giggles.

Yellow grips the sides of his chair. There is no way Green just beat him. There’s no way Blue bet all that money on a pig.

“Congratulations, the turns are complete. I will now reveal the results. In first place, Red. In second, Green. In third place is Blue. In last place, Yellow.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, woman?” Yellow springs from his chair, making a grab at the dealer, who steps just out of his reach. “I’m holding five Blue chips! That’s fifty thousand dollars!” 

The silence drags on for a second. The dealer blinks at him, her face void of any reaction. Yellow begins to shout again, only to be interrupted by the shrill and uncontrolled laughter from Red. 

“I can't believe that worked!” He gasps out in between, “You still haven’t pieced it together, dumbass?”

Red settles back in his chair, the crowd around them stunned into silence.

“We switched our chip values. Blue said he bet one hundred thousand, but he only reported twenty and I did the same thing in reverse.” Red raises his board from his lap, showing five fat zeros following a one, “It was simple, my chips are worth ten thousand each and Blue’s are worth two. Do the math, it works out.”

Yellow grabs the dealer by the collar, slamming her back against the table. She raises an eyebrow at him, her hand snaking around to where a bruise will likely form. Blue slips his jacket off and attempts to slide it between her body and the edge of the table to relieve the pressure.

“That has to be against the rules, that’s cheating!” Yellow snarls in her face, saliva flying from the edges. Her eyes narrow at him, not at all amused nor frightened by the outburst.

“There is no rule that says players must place their own boards in their laps during the game.” She says in a level tone, her voice calm and patient as it had been from the start. Yellow pulls her back and attempts to slam her once again into the table, but her hands catch the edges and her shin connects with his crotch.

“Before you attempt something as stupid as that again, please be reminded of just who I am, Sanghoon.” She waves a hand in the air and two guards from the curtain come inside and grab the man under the shoulders. “You may have lucked out once tonight, but never forget this fall.” 

The guards escort the man out and the dealer turns back the remaining three at the table. Her hands collect the cards in a steady pile, turning them all the same and slotting them back inside the deck. She goes for the chips next, stacking them neatly. Blue softly catches her arm when she’s done. She turns to him with nothing short of a warning look.

“Are you alright?” He whispers and her eyes dart down to where he secures her wrist. He releases it immediately. 

“It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last that I will deal with his kind.” She pockets the cards, “It’s sad that they’re so desperate to promote that they’re promoting people like him to Spade.”

Her dark eyes catch the Red Devil’s and she sends him a wink. 

“That was a very nice play, boys. I look forward to seeing your faces around.” She turns to Green, who has his head cradled in his hands, “I would tuck that revolver a little deeper in your boot if you don’t wish to be challenged to a game of roulette tonight. Though knowing you, I’m tempted to say that may be your intention.”

“You’re correct to assume so. I’ll see you Monday, Sonny.” Hyunjin grins and waves her a goodbye as she exits. 

“You know her?” Jisung asks, pushing out of his chair and stretching his legs. Blue snorts.

“Sonny? Yeah, we work here, remember? She’s always been nice to us.” Blue makes his way to the bar, the younger two following behind him. He sits at the same spot he was found earlier and takes a drink from the fresh water placed in front of him.

Red hums. “She’s a Spade.” 

“That she is.” 

He doesn’t question it any further, instead graciously accepting the lemonade he is offered by the bartender. Hyunjin settles down on Blue’s other side, the revolver slipping from his boot and twirling around in his hand. They wait a beat before continuing.

“So, we got what we came for. You thinking about getting out of here?” Blue murmurs into his glass, just loud enough for the two on his sides to hear. Jisung stirs his lemonade. 

“Yeah. The whole innocent and scared act was really exhausting.” He replies, drawing a chuckle from his partner. 

“Do you think you could wait up a minute?” Hyunjin rotates the cylinder, listening for the little clicking sounds. “Sonny was right. I want to play a little game.”

Before he can slip away, Blue clasps his wrist.

“Be careful who you pick a fight with. There were a lot of eyes on that game and I don’t want to be the one who has to tell Seungmin what happened.” His words hold a bit of humor to them, but his eyes are cold and serious. Hyunjin smiles.

“Don’t worry so much about me, Blue’s Clues. Seungmin and I already have an agreement that he wouldn’t look for my body.” 

Hyunjin slips into the crowd, the blunt end of the revolver digging into his ankle with each step he takes. It’s a pain he's grown familiar with, a pain he’s grown to expect. The slight brush of the grip against his calf is not only welcome, but highly anticipated. 

There is one key difference between Hyunjin and the rest of his few associates. Well, two if you count his romance aversion, but his aromanticism is something he’s long since announced. The major difference between him and the others is his obsession with Fortune and her wheel.

Sure, people like Blue and Red thrive every time the wheel spins, the euphoria of trying your luck is something that can only be felt by true gamblers. They feel the rush in their veins, the addicting surge in their guts. They’re easily intoxicated by the feeling of winning by pure luck.

Hyunjin takes that feeling to the very next level. Playing with money and cards and chips is still thrilling, but nothing is comparable to the adrenaline the cold kiss of metal against your temple brings. Nothing is akin to state he is in when he pulls that trigger, a bet with such a large wager and yet he is absolutely enthralled.

Russian Roulette is not a game played by feeble minds, it’s a game only few dare to actually engage in. It can be easily rigged, which is why Hyunjin always brings his own gun to the knife fight. Nobody ever doubts his revolver is real and loaded.

He could cut his fingers on the edge of cards all day, stain their edges with drops of his life until he’s bled dry, but he prefers the more climatic method. If he’s going to die at the hands of a gamble, he won’t go silently and typically. He’ll gladly splatter his brains across the wall of a casino before he lets a millionaire con his way into owning his life.

It wasn’t even in the plan for Sanghoon to pick Hyunjin out of a crowd. Earlier in the evening, he had entertained himself with a few weak card games and played against the businessman on a few occasions. There was no point where they teamed up, but a recognizable face must have brought him a boost of confidence.

It doesn’t matter. It helped Red and Blue win in the end. He may be out fifty-thousand, but it wasn’t his money. He stole that off the body of a particular parasite infecting their beloved streets. The police shouldn’t recover it for another day or two when the rain comes and it’s pushed upstream. Until then, he’ll drain the bank account and wear the suit he’s collected as a souvenir.

The only downside to the game is the loss of his anonymity. Now that people know who he is, he’s bound to have a bit more trouble finding a worthy opponent. Everybody knows the name Hwang, the infamous trigger-happy maniac of the Stray’s inner seven. Everybody knows how dangerous it is to play him.

He’s just lucky tonight.

In the back corner of the room where three red booths line the wall, a man on the shorter side of five and a half stands. His eyes find Hyunjin and the revolver in his boot. He doesn’t pretend to not know him. Everybody knows him.

They don’t speak much, not when both of them are aware of what is going to happen. They lay the cards out in front of them, waiting patiently for a dealer to come and shuffle. When she spots the revolver resting in the center of the table, she sighs and calls for plastic wrap.

They play a simple game of Blackjack.

Five turns is easily agreed upon and soon the cards are dealt and players are deep in thought. While most players master their stone cold expressions and control over their tells, Hyunjin has never needed a mask to hide himself. He bares his teeth in a twisted smile, his foot tapping and fingers thumping against the table. His movements aren't tells, they’re just random. His eyes light up when he gets a new card, good or bad. Insanity is the best strategy. 

He holds a seven in between his nimble fingers, a three tucked behind it. He taps the table once, loudly. 

“Hit.” He exclaims. The dealer throws another card his way. It’s a five. “Hit.”

It’s a four. 

“Stay.”

His opponent watches him with an analytical eye. The man in front of Hyunjin is a no name, more than likely somebody's plus one or a crook who managed to sneak in through the kitchens. His face is not recognizable and his playing style is sloppy. He doesn’t seem to recognize Hyunjin for all that he is, all his reputation portrays him to be.

“Hit.” His opponent says, his name as unimportant as his life. Another card flops down on the table. The man hesitates. “Stay.”

“Reveal your hands.” The dealer mutters, her voice lacking enthusiasm. Her hands shuffle the deck, obnoxiously chewing reaching the ears of those close enough to smell the sickeningly sweet scent of bubblegum between her pearly whites.

Hyunjin reveals his nineteen. His opponent shows seventeen.

“Well, would you look at that!” His voice is loud, teetering on the edge of crazy. His smile is so wide, it could split his face. “Looks like I’m the lucky dog tonight! What was the rule again, love?”

The dealer sighs. “Winner gets to pull the trigger.”

“That’s right! You've aced your little pop quiz! Tell me, true or false: the rules specify that the barrel of the gun must be aimed at the losing opponent?” He swipes the revolver into his right hand quicker than the speed of light, tapping the side of the barrel against his temple. He grins up at the unamused dealer.

“False. The only rule as to where the gun must be aimed is that it must be aimed at a game participant.” 

“ _Ding-ding-ding-ding!_ One-hundreds all around for you!” His feet kick up at the same time his hands push down on the armrest. His feet tuck under him, pressed into the plush of the velvet chair. The cylinder spins. 

“Now let’s make this game a little more interesting!” His hand slaps against the cylinder, ceasing its spinning. He brings the revolver to his head. The trigger pulls. Nothing. “Ah! Ah-ah-ah! Looks like God doesn’t want to meet me just yet!”

The gun flops back on the table, his body settling back in the chair the way he’s supposed to. His opponent glances at the gun and gulps. The cards are dealt again. The man goes to grab his. He flinches as Hyunjin’s palm connects with the table, rattling it. He bursts into laughter.

“I’m sorry! Did I scare you?” His eyes are much darker, sinister and hungry. His voice is raspy, coming from the depths of his throat. He sounds starved. “Don’t let little old me get under your skin. There’s still four turns left.”

Eyes as deep as the ocean stare back at Hyunjin, a question swimming beneath them. He’s grown familiar to the gazes or confusion, the careful footsteps on the eggshells he’s laid. A smirk graces his face. Who needs intimidation when you're Hwang Hyunjin.

He’s dealt a hand of nine and five. The corner of one of his opponents cards is bent backwards, folded down so sharply it looks almost torn. Hyunjin calls for a hit. 

An eight. Bust.

“How exciting!” The opponent takes the gun cautiously at the sound of Hyunjin’s giggle. Every smile he shoots him is like ice in his veins, the baring of teeth complimented by his wild eyes. It’s more than obvious that he’s missing a few screws, but perhaps that is what makes Hwang Hyunjin so valuable.

The barrel of the gun rests against his forehead, brushing smooth skin with a feathered touch. A rush flows through his veins, maybe adrenaline. He could lose everything right here, have a hole shot through his head and pierce his brain, have his blood spewing out onto the table and staining the cards that could never be used again. Seungmin would probably want to keep one, as a fun little memory. Maybe he’d put it in his casket, assuming he was granted a funeral. He wonders who would come besides his dear ole partner.

The gun clicks, the cylinder moving past the chamber. There is an exhale from his opponent and a similar sigh from himself. He really isn’t wanted in Hell? 

“Let’s move forward.” He settles back in his chair. The next two rounds go by uneventfully. The third round ends in a draw, the second with his opponent’s upper hand. He once again welcomes the barrel to his left cheek, but he’s disappointed by a click. 

The last round. Surely, he’ll get something from this one. 

He holds an eight and a seven. The dealer slides an ace at his command. Sixteen. The odds are equal. Always the risk-taker, he opts for another hit. Four. He stays.

A sweaty fingerprint stains the bottom of one of the cards held in his opponent’s hands. He requests a hit. His gaze immediately meets Hyunjin, a visible swallow travels down his throat. He requests another. It’s a bust.

Hyunjin flies forward, loud laughter scrunching his face into an expression only a madman could wear so proudly. The man recoils immediately, eyes flirting between the gun and Hyunjin’s erratic features. In a second, his chair is thrown aside and he’s making a break for the exit.

“Oh? Going somewhere?” Hyunjin shouts in glee, swiping the gun off the table, “Not without finishing the game, you aren’t! Come on! Come look Death in the eyes!” 

The gun aims at the back of the man racing for the doors, “Come finish what you started, you coward!” 

The first pull. Click.

The second pull. Click.

The third pull.

Hit.

A bullet lodges itself into the spine of the target, his body slumping to the floor and going limp. The gunshot’s proximity stops all movement and chatter, eyes drawing to the bleeding man on the ground. The dealer is the first to act.

She wraps his body in plastic wrap, two other girls from the back coming to help her. Hyunjin tucks the revolver in his boot, turning his back to the scene as several pairs of eyes trail after him. He saunters back to the bar, where Blue meets him with an unimpressed stare and Jisung looks more pissed than anything.

“Come on, boys,” The words come without a single ounce of acknowledgment of the silence in the room, “this party blows.”

Blue downs the rest of his water, shaking his head as he struts after Hyunjin. The three of them don’t spare the scene a glance as they stalk out the back entrance into a dimly lit alleyway. Hyunjin immediately lights a cigarette.

“You just smoke after that?” Jisung can’t fight off the disbelief in his voice. He isn’t a stranger to bearing witness to death, but he’s never seen it executed so casually. His throat feels tight.

“‘Course not. I don’t smoke, that shit is terrible for your lungs. I just like to let the heat crawl down until it nearly melts my skin.” Hyunjin flashes him a smile and holds the burning stick away from himself, almost in admiration. Hyunjin himself is a lot like a lit cigarette, burning down and wearing away to his very last fuse until it becomes unbearable. 

“I should have guessed.” Jisung mutters.

“You really should have.” He sounds so light and giggly, like he’s high on a drug he never took. Jisung supposes Hyunjin doesn’t need drugs.

“I’m going to go get the car, don’t shoot anybody while I’m gone.” Blue runs a hand through his hair, disappearing around the corner. Hyunjin slumps against the exterior wall, twirling the cigarette in his fingers but never bringing it to his mouth, true to his word. Jisung watches him in silence.

“That man inside was scum.” Hyunjin breaks the eerie quiet with a hum. He’s still grinning. “He wasn’t anybody important, hell, I didn’t even recognize him. But I did recognize the little mark on his chest that peeked through his blazer every so often.” 

“Everybody in there was an Ace. I’m sure you just pissed off some big boss.” Jisung sighs, “So, who was he? An Ace who took something from you, someone you had to settle the score with?”

“No.” Hyunjin laughs at the suggestion, tapping the cigarette against the building's edge. Ash collects on the ground by his feet. “He wasn’t an Ace. He was worse. A fed.”

Jisung’s blood runs cold. “You killed a cop?”

“Well, not just any ole piggy. That little symbol on his chest, I know it. I know those people, I know what they do and what they hide behind the squeals of their little pigs who write the reports. Though, I didn’t think they would come around these parts.” The flame crawls down the body of the cigarette.

“Another gang?” Jisung swallows the bile rising in his throat. A cop is dead and Hyunjin is responsible.

“Something like that.” Hyunjin hums and comes to stand right in front of Jisung. He blows a quick sting of air, blowing the smoke back into his face. “One thing is for sure: if they’re around these parts, things are about to get very, _very_ interesting.”

“Should I be worried?” Jisung scrunches his nose at the smell of burning tobacco. He’s always hated that smell.

“If you value your life.” 

The car pulls up in front of them, the passenger’s side window rolling down and Blue’s face comes into view. 

“Are you two going to make out on the corner or get in the car?” 

“Way to ruin all the fun, Blue’s Clues.” Hyunjin huffs and climbs into the back seat. Blue rolls his eyes, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Jisung, who still stands frozen by the building. Does Blue know they just killed a cop?

“Don’t get me wrong here, it’s not like I want to take you with me, but if you don’t get in this car, somebody is going to and I don’t want to put up with Chan’s bitching.” Blue calls out to him and Jisung snaps himself from his trance long enough to haul his body to the passenger’s side. He feels Blue’s eyes on him as he buckles in, hears Hyunjin’s shrill giggling.

“Dammit, Hyunjin. I told you not to break my partner.” 

“It’s not my fault.” Hyunjin speaks through a giggle, his breath suddenly fanning over Jisung’s ear, “Some toys just come broken.”

+++

There is hardly any time to survey the severity of their situation when the three of them return to the store. A single minute of peace is awarded to them when they make their way through the shelves, Hyunjin taking the opportunity to stash his gun underneath the floorboard under the main counter. He catches Jisung’s look.

“Can never be too careful. The Aces have the cops on their side, so we have stealth on ours.” He smiles, slightly different as to his playing smile. They all have a slight twitch to them, a sign that Hyunjin is not entirely there in the moment, but it’s softer around its edges. The look on his eyes isn’t threatening, it’s almost kind.

Jisung nods at his answer, his feet directing him to the office. It takes him a moment to realize Blue is not following him, and neither is Hyunjin. One glance back shows Hyunjin still crouched on the floor, smiling innocently up at his partner. Blue’s arms are folded over his chest, stern look on his face. 

“How did you know the Aces have the cops on their side?” His voice is chilling, much like when he and Jisung first met. Instantly, the youngest of the three feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. 

“Lucky guess, wasn't it?” 

“Cut the shit, whose phone did you tap?” Index and thumb clutch the bridge of Blue’s nose, his eyes shut. He sighs.

“Nobody’s. I bugged the office.” Hyunjin replies sweetly, sending Jisung a wink. He doesn’t return if, doesn’t react. If Hyunjin bugged the office, that means he knows about Jeongyeon, about his suspicions. 

“What am I going to do with you?” Blue throws his hands up, letting them smack against his thighs when gravity pulls them back down. He shakes his head again, heading for the office door and effectively ending the conversation. Hyunjin’s giggles taught him from the hallway.

The latter notices Jisung’s deer-in-headlights expression and stops just before their shoulders brush. He takes a pause, turning over the possibilities in his head. 

“Don’t worry, Red.” He whispers in his ear, “I’ll keep your little family feud a secret. Cross my heart.” 

Jisung watches slim fingers trace an “X” over his heart.

“And hope to die?” He murmurs back, catching Hyunjin’s eye.

“Oh, I do.” He slinks into the room after Blue, light smirk playing at his plump lips. Jisung forces himself out of yet another daze, blinking back his worries for a moment. Right now, he has to focus on reporting the night’s events.

What he doesn’t expect is to walk into a room already at full occupancy. A computer sits on Felix’s lap, Seungmin leaned over his shoulder and talking quietly. Changbin sits in the other chair, twirling a dagger between his fingers. Blue has pressed himself against the back wall, Hyunjin having latched onto Seungmin’s waist. 

“Good, we’re all here. We should move this to the conference room.” Chan speaks from behind the desk, eyebrows knitted together at the documents in his hands. His bottom lip is worried between his teeth. Something is up.

“Ooh.” Felix says, “We only discuss big boy stuff in the conference room.” 

Seungmin takes the laptop from him, closing it carefully and stuffing it under his arm. When his back straightens, his free hand is immediately encapsulated in Hyunjin’s. It’s a detail Jisung certainly doesn’t miss. 

Blue is the first to move past him, bound further into the building toward what he assumes is the conference room. He follows close behind, not wanting to miss anything. They pass through the warehouse setup, where he pretends not to see the body messily shoved behind some crates. 

Blue leads him to a small booth in the back corner, opening a door that looks like a closet but opens into a large room with a long table. The others file in after them, the laptop under Seungmin’s arm placed at the head of the table, while he moves to the other end beside Hyunjin. 

Chan is the last to enter, locking the door behind him and giving it a shape tug. Everybody is silent as he moves about the room, checking every corner and wall outlet and chair to ensure that nothing has been tapped. The last thing he grabs is a small box. 

“Alright, you know the drill.” He tosses the box to the middle of the table, where cellphones and watches begin to pile in. Jisung frowns, but he doesn’t complain. His phone joins the others and Chan places them inside an actual closet.

“It’s not a trust thing,” Blue addresses him from across the table, “it’s a wire-tap thing.” 

“The only reason I’d taken all the proper measures is because this involves the Aces, and I don’t want anything said in this room to reach ears that do not belong to the seven of us.” Chan opens the laptop, sighing loudly at the screen. “We need to talk about the Aces.”

“Yes?” Hyunjin speaks up. Chan looks at him inquisitively for a moment, before Hyunjin seems to understand. “Oh. You meant the gang. My bad.”

Chan just shakes his head.

“Someone has contacted me claiming to be an Ace informant.” 

Seungmin sits up a little straighter. A gasp leaves Felix’s mouth. Changbin raises an eyebrow. Jisung watches all of these reactions to the words, before his eyes come back to one. Blue has gone as still as a doll.

“Their informant? Why would he contact us? Better yet, _how_ did he contact _you_? The Aces aren’t supposed to know anything about you” Changbin taps his foot against the tile, uneasy settling into his bones. 

“His name is Mark, at least that’s the one he gave me. He said the Aces are starting something, something he can’t tell me about until he knows I won’t rat him out. He doesn’t want to go through with it and thinks if we can stop it before it’s too late, he can avoid the hot seat.” Chan turns the laptop around, displaying street-camera footage of a man with dyed blond hair walking.

“So, he’s selling out his own boss to you just to save his own ass?” Blue scoffs, “Just like an Ace.” 

“Regardless of his reasoning, he doesn’t want to talk where it can be traced. I told him Seungmin’s tech is untraceable, but he prefers face-to-face.”

Changbin’s head snaps up.

“You’re not going.” He says, a finality to his voice that is much scarier than any of them have ever heard. Chan doesn't seem to acknowledge the urgency, instead holding up his hand.

“I’m not. It’s far too risky for a leader.” He reassures his second, eyes falling on Blue. “Blue, Jisung. Can you do this?”

Jisung freezes in his seat. He’s met Aces, played them and challenged them. He’s done everything his sister said not to do, and now he’s being asked to commit the ultimate betrayal to her; befriending an Ace. He has to say no. 

Before he can get the word past his lips, Blue speaks for the both of them, “We can do it.” 

He turns his head to meet Blue’s gaze already on him, expression tight and eyes hardened. A silent war carries on between them, Jisung’s frustration evident in the reddening of his face. Blue doesn’t budge.

“Okay.” Chan says slowly, “You guys can go on Monday. In the meantime, everybody rest up. Felix, Seungmin, see if there is anything you can gather on this guy. Changbin, make sure the weapons are stocked before you leave today.”

Each nod an affirmative at his requests, the combination of dread and excitement setting in.

“Blue, Jisung.” Chan presses his lips into a thin line, “Be prepared for the worst.” 

+++

Saturday night comes without much disturbance for Jisung.

It isn’t necessarily a day-off, gangs don’t typically adhere to work-day schedules. However, he finds it to be a somewhat relaxing evening. He avoids the mailroom at all costs, hardly leaves his apartment except to pick up the pizza he ordered at the front desk, and asks Chaeryeong to run a check on the Aces informant. It doesn’t prove very promising, but it’s something.

He allows himself to fall asleep rather early, before the day even turns over. It’s not that this week has been any more exhausting than usual, he is simply having trouble processing the events recently, and he fears thinking of them in depth.

He doesn’t want to reward his thoughts with any more time than he’s already spent on them. Chills always race down his spine when he thinks of that night three weeks ago that he and Blue discovered something they should not have. The emotion he feels is something akin to grief and fury. 

He is very rudely yanked from the soft clutches of slumber by a loud noise from nearby. His body stills beneath scratchy sheets, not yet betraying his awoken state. The noise sounds again, a frantic knocking that nearly sends his front door off its hinges. Jisung sighs and climbs from his bed, hand immediately finding his gun. 

Illuminated red from his bedside clock tells him it’s a quarter past three, and his floorboards creak and whine beneath his bare feet. The knocking never stops, it’s loud and consistent and surely enough to earn him a noise complaint, but he takes his time in approaching the door. The peephole offers him only a glimpse of who is waiting for him.

Freezing metal meets his hand at the doorknob and he unlocks it carefully and quietly. The door swings open, his gun pointed at the figure behind it. 

His eyes take a second to adjust, the shapeless silhouette of a person on their knees at his door begins to clear. Blue sits with a lock-pick in his hand and blood covering every inch of his body.

Before Jisung can begin his interrogation, Blue is crawling into his apartment and kicking the door shut. He exhales and the steady rise and fall of his chest tells that he’s been running. 

“Why…” Blue heaves, his hand coming up to press against his chest, “why does it take you so fucking long to answer the door?” 

Jisung stands frozen, gun pointed at his partner’s face for what must be several very long minutes. Blue’s face is beaten, bruises blooming across his cheeks and lips, his hands are clawed and bleeding. Jisung registers his words last of all.

“Well, I usually don’t have felons breaking down my door in the dead of night, my mistake.” Jisung tucks the gun into the waistband of his shorts, relocking his door and settling against the wall.

“I’m not a felon.” Blue glares, “At least, not officially.” 

Jisung nods and the only sound in the room for a moment is Blue’s slight wheezing. His head rolls back and rests on the side of the broken down couch. He can hardly think straight with the throbbing pain all over his body.

“Care to tell _why_ you’re in _my_ apartment, bleeding on _my_ floor and disturbing _my_ neighbors?”

Blue holds up a hand in silent request for silence. His heart pounds so aggressively against his rib cage, he’s almost scared it’ll break them. 

“I ran into some trouble.” His words come out unsteadily, barely able to hold a single breath as he speaks. There’s a sharp pain in his abdomen, but he’ll worry about that when it becomes a problem. For now, he’s just glad he got off the streets.

“Oh, really?” Jisung fakes confusion for a second, his face slowing morphing into a deadpan, “Would've never guessed that on my own.” 

“Can you not be a smart-ass for just one second?” Blue sighs, his aching hand brushing through his sweat-matted hair, “Would it kill you to react normally?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jisung exclaims, his hands flying out to his sides, “How would you like me to react? You bleeding out on my floor is not a normal occurrence for me.” 

“I don’t know, maybe you could lead with “Hey Blue, you’re covered in blood, what happened? Are you okay?” or literally anything that doesn’t make me feel like the prime suspect.” Blue’s voice goes up an octave or two higher in mocking. Jisung doesn’t acknowledge his poor attempt at imitating him.

“You’re right, my bad. Hey Blue, you’re covered in blood, what happened? Are you okay?” 

“Well—“

“And what in God’s name made you think to come _here_? How did you even find this place?” Hair twists between his fingers, tugging and gripping at his blue highlights. He doesn’t remember telling anyone but Chan his whereabouts outside of the gang. Blue shouldn’t know where he lives.

“I… may have had Seungmin tap your phone.” Guilt plagues the words spilling from Blue’s mouth. Jisung stops yanking his own hair out in favor of staring at his partner like he’s grown a second head. 

“You what?”

“May have.” Blue repeats, and the buffs in annoyance when he’s met with a blank stare, “Don't look at me like I killed your mother, it’s not a big deal.”

“You tapped my fucking phone!”

“You sent a PI after me!”

“For good reason!”

“Well, clearly my reasoning proved useful as well.” Blue sighs again, the sharp pain in his ribs returning. A hospital is best suited for him right now, but he knows better than that. He won’t bother with his connections right now either, all he wants is to change clothes and go to sleep. Blood is awfully sticky.

“Whose blood is this?” 

“Don’t know. He didn’t properly introduce himself before he dragged me into an alley and proceeded to dig his foot into my stomach repeatedly.” Blue uses the arm of the couch to stand, his entire body screaming in protest. He’s absolutely positive there won’t be an inch of his skin that isn't bruised. An arm loops around his torso and brings him to his feet. 

“Come on, shower is this way. My clothes might be too small for you, your legs are more muscular than mine.” Jisung inches his partner across the apartment. Luckily, the shower is in the hallway, so he doesn’t have to drag him very far.

“I’ll squeeze in,” Blue says through a breathy laugh, “it’ll feel like workout pants.”

Blue’s body slumps against the toilet when Jisung sits him down, immediately leaning over to turn the water on. His closet doesn’t offer a large variety of options, but he finds his biggest pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that might fit and carries them back to the bathroom. Blue is in the same position as when he left, eyes closed and breathing ragged.

“I have no idea if these will fit, but it’s all I’ve got.” Blue cracks at eye open when he hears his voice, giving a weak nod in acknowledgment, “Do you need help or should I go back to my room?”

“I can shower on my own, thanks.” Blue laughs. His hand grips the edge of the sink and pulls himself up. “You can go.”

Backing out of the bathroom, Jisung pulls the door shut behind him and treads back to his bedroom. He sits on the bed silently, knowing he won’t be able to return to sleep when someone is in his house. A game pulled up on his phone keeps him entertained for fifteen minutes before the shower cuts off.

There’s some shuffling and a string of (what is supposed to be muttered) cursing before he is sure Blue has made it out of the shower without busting his head on the floor. There’s more shuffling and groans and things that Jisung classifies as just being Blue noises before the door cracks open. 

“Good news or bad news first?” His partner’s voice all but yells down the hall. Jisung opens his bedroom door, meeting Blue’s eyes as they peak out. 

“Good.”

“I got the boxers and the pants on.” Blue looks a little proud of himself. “The bad news is I’m somehow stuck in the hoodie.”

A laugh bubbles from Jisung’s chest and he slowly pushes the door to the bathroom open. Blue has his hand in one sleeve, the wrong sleeve, and the hood part around his neck in the front. The other half of the hoodie flops down by his side, only half of his torso covered.

Jisung attempts to control his stare when he enters, but the black and purple marks painting his partner’s upper body are hard to look away from. There’s a deep slash near the bottom of his ribs, still looking irritated despite being cleaned.

“Here.” He skips Blue’s arm out as carefully as he can, twisting the neck around the right way. Slowly, he threads both of Blue’s arms through the sleeves and tugs the rest of the garment over that expanse of dotted skin.

“What the hell happened?” He can’t keep the words locked in his throat anymore. Blue glances over his shoulder, wet hair sending drops of water to the shoulders of the thick hoodie.

“One of Sanghoon’s goons, probably. I saw the mark before he hit me, a Diamond.” Blue lowers himself onto the toilet seat after, just now registering the ache in his feet. He ran hard and fast after what he did, all the way to an apartment building he has never been to. 

“I think I have a first-aid kit, hold on.” Jisung leaves without waiting for the protests he knows will come. The first-aid is tucked in his emergency bag, the first thing he grabs when fleeing. If he doesn’t get to take anything else, at least he always has his bag. He can hear the comments on the tip of Blue’s tongue when he returns and he sends him a hard look in warning. 

The bruises and cuts on his face are the most noticeable. His cheek is cut, just enough to make a small trickle of blood trail down his face. He covers it with a small bandage, careful to avoid the bruise just above it. 

Blue is quiet while he works, hardly bothering to even open his eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how shaken up he is about it, even if he remains cold and still on the outside. Every little noise, the ripping of paper on the bandages or the snipping of scissors, makes him flinch. His body subconsciously leans away when he feels Jisung’s fingertips brush over his skin in such close proximity, but neither of them acknowledge it.

“This is weird.” He whispers in a soft voice, careful not to jostle the bandages Jisung’s laid across both his cheeks and forehead, the smaller ones that feel like tape around his mouth move with his words. Jisung hums.

“What’s weird about it?” His voice is equally as quiet, hands barely ghosting over skin. The bandages are firm, but his hands are nothing but feathery when he lays them. Blue sighs when he feels Jisung grab his right hand. 

“I don’t know.” He admits, not missing the way Jisung frowns when he observes the busted knuckles, “I don’t even know why I came here.”

“I think somewhere in the very deepest and darkest corner of your mind,” Jisung pauses from lightly scrapping a towel over the back of his hand, “you trust me.”

Blue snorts. “Maybe in your dreams.” 

Jisung doesn’t respond to that, the same frown returning to his face when he notices the claw marks running down Blue’s hand. The towel runs over them as lightly as possible, an ointment of some sort running along the edges. The soft and delicate movements are enough to lure Blue to sleep.

“Shit.” Jisung quietly curses to himself, “I’d hate to see how the other guy ended up.”

“Dead.” Blue says before he can stop himself. Jisung stills and his eyes slowly lift to lock onto Blue’s. The agent gulps, a sense of guilt washing through him. “I didn’t have a choice when he pulled the gun. It was me or him.”

Jisung blinks at him. His head drops and the towel is back to soothing his bloodied hand once again. Blue feels his stomach tighten.

“Not saying I’m glad it was him,” Jisung carefully winds a bandage around all four of Blue’s knuckles, “but I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

He moves to the left hand, significantly less damaged than the right. There’s only one claw mark on this hand, more than likely a last resort of sorts. His knuckles are slightly worse and Jisung belatedly remembers his file listing him as ambidextrous. He fights with both of his hands.

The towel soothes them as well and wraps them in bandages snug enough to keep the bleeding from continuing. He shakes his head when the image of Blue’s torso comes back to his mind. He needs to fix that slash under his ribs.

“Lean back.” He gently presses his hand to Blue’s chest, a look of confusion meeting his own. Blue allows himself to be reclined as far as he can go.

“That’s not necessary.” He says when Jisung begins to lift the hoodie. He attempts to tug it back down over his wounds, Jisung’s eyebrows flying into his hairline. Blue winces when he moves his arms too quickly and pain flares in his elbow.

“I’m not letting you bleed out on my couch.” The hoodie bunches up just above where the gash is, smearing a thick trail of red up his side. Jisung scrunches his nose at the thought of having to wash it later, but he throws that thought to the back burner when he sees how deep the cut goes. 

Blue’s breathing is unsteady despite how controlled he tries to make it seem and Jisung internally applauds him for keeping it together this long. The gash is making three inches long, probably an inch deep and half an inch thick. Whatever made this kind of mark must have been severe.

“Man, what the hell did he slash you with?” Jisung tries not to directly touch the wound, his fear of an infection coming on already likely. Blue needs stitches, he knows that much just looking at it. 

“A pick-axe. Don’t ask me where he got it, I have no idea.” His ribs move with every word and he swallows the wince in his throat every time. Jisung stops asking questions, having noticed the pain it causes to speak. 

He works carefully, cleaning the wound without coming in contact and laying a long bandage over it. He uses half a roll of tape to hopefully keep his torso from bending and causes blood to gush out. It’s not a fix, but it’s good enough to keep Blue’s ribs inside his body until they can find a fix.

“Thank you.” Blue whispers as Jisung tucks his supplies back into the small plastic box. He shoots him a small smile. 

“You’re my partner. I’m sure at some point this happens to everyone.” The large rolls of thick bandaging are harder to roll up, he opts for just sticking them under the counter when he can’t force them into the box. The box locks now, with enough room for all the tape and other bandages. 

“Not just for this.” His words make Jisung cease his movements, meeting his eye over the sink. “Thanks for not telling Chan about… the Fleming thing.” 

Jisung sighs, setting the box on the sink and leaning against the doorframe. Blue refuses to move from his spot even shifting around would be painful right now. Still, he does his best to angle his body toward Jisung as to look him in the eye.

“You’re going to have to tell him eventually. It’s not my decision to make as to when, but something about the Aces… it’s unsettling to me.” 

Blue cocks his head to the side. “Like what?”

“Like… God, okay. You remember that mission where we found the list of Spades and the police commissioner.” Jisung waits for Blue’s nod before he continues, “That hotel clerk, Tzuyu, didn't alert anyone even when she knew who I was. She must have known I had a partner.”

“Yeah, but that was because the Aces wanted us to have that list, right?” Blue inches his leg out a little further, grabbing the side of the sink to twist his body around. He barely contains the grunt that tears from his throat, instead coming out like a muffled scream.

Jisung leans over to steady him, but Blue has already stopped moving. A moment or heavy breathing later, he sits up straight again.

“I don’t think they did.” Jisung slowly continues their conversation, eyes scraping over Blue’s injuries. “I think she let me go.”

“Why…” His voice cracks and Blue takes a moment to collect himself before talking again, “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.” Jisung admits with a shrug of his shoulders, “But even last night was weird to me. Sonny knew we were cheating and it was three Strays against an Ace. As an Ace, she should have said something.”

“She’s always been nice to us,” Blue points out, “maybe she wanted to see if we could get away with it.”

“Maybe.” Still, Jisung’s gut screams at him that he’s wrong to assume that. Suspicion only continues to leak further into his veins the more he thinks about it. “But why not protect her own first? Wouldn't she get in trouble for that? And threatening him afterwards.”

Blue mutters something under his breath, eyebrows knitted. His fingers tap the edge of the toilet seat where he holds on for dear life, replaying his memories of last night. One part sticks out.

“Remember who I am.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what she said to him. “Remember who I am.” What does that mean?” Blue bites his bottom lip, looking back up at his partner, “Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know. Even the other dealer was off. She just wrapped up the body of the guy Hyunjin shot and carried on. She didn’t even care that a potential Ace had been shot by an enemy gang on Ace territory.”

“Nami.” Blue supplies a name for the dealer in question, “She's close with Sonny.”

“Something isn’t right here, Blue. God, and there’s this fucking kid in my mailroom. He’s nosy as hell, if he keeps hanging around, he’s going to get caught in the crossfire.” Jisung shakes his head, chewing the skin of his lips. There’s a feeling of dread always in the outskirts of his mind, an uneasy creeping up behind him. He feels like he’s missing one little piece that would solve everything. 

“What can we really do about it? We have nothing to go on, we’re literally in the dark here.”

“This informant.” Jisung bounces on his heels, “You think it’s legit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“It just seems like something’s up. There isn’t really reason to be suspicious but...”

“I know what you mean.” Blue sighs, head dipping low and staring at the cheap tiles on the apartment floor. “Even before you joined the field, it felt like something was amiss. The Aces never move in silence like this.”

“Whatever this is, I hope we can get ahead before it’s too big to stop.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Blue let’s a moment pass of complete silence, their thoughts cementing themselves into their minds. They don’t have much time. “Here, help me to the couch.”

Jisung carefully lifts Blue, avoiding any contact with the gash in his side. Blue groans the entire way to his feet, shuffling along the floor into the living room. Everything is on fire. His feet feel like he’s been running nonstop for days, his lungs pounding against his ribs with every uneven exhale.

“You sure you want to sleep here?” Jisung balances him against the arm, laying out blankets and two pillows for best comfort possible. 

“I’ve slept behind dumpsters in much worse condition. This is a luxury for me.” Blue waves him off with what little energy he can muster to bring his hand up. Jisung maneuvers him onto the couch, his head and torso elevated by two pillows. He drapes two blankets over his body, hoping to block out the cool air that seeps in through the vents.

“Any chance I can convince you to see a botched doctor?” He pulls the blanket up to Blue’s chest. His partner laughs.

“I’d rather shoot myself with Hyunjin’s gun.”

“You might still have to if you start acting like a walking corpse.” 

Blue rolls his eyes and Jisung leaves the blood smears on the floor for tomorrow. For now, he’s tired and worried and his brain is running way too fast for him to keep up. He needs to take a concerning amount of melatonin and put himself to bed.

Before he once again greets his mattress, his eyes linger on his bedside drawer. What’s tucked away in there, what he’s hiding from himself more than anyone else, has been haunting him for weeks now. But he can’t afford to entertain the thought of it, not when the truth will hurt far worse than not knowing.

People always say they’d want to know if something happened. Jisung doesn’t. He doesn’t want to know anything.

Ignorance is the only bliss he is granted and he’ll take it with as many grains of salt as it takes.

+++

When Jisung had awakened late in the afternoon on Sunday, Blue was gone. The blankets and pillows were stacked neatly on the couch, none of them soaked in blood and the small stains on the floor had definitely come from the night before. Every little thing had been put back in its place, near perfection. Jisung almost thought he had imagined it.

Arriving at the shop Monday morning, the pitched ringing calls out to him like a greeting. The front desk is unattended, the carpet recently cleaned and the shelves restocked. To anyone on the outside, it passes as a normal video rental store.

Brushing dark brown hair out of his eyes, Jisung swings his legs over the counter and it becomes immediately apparent that this is not a normal rental store. He’s never paid much mind to the way the floorboards whine under even the slightest bit of weight. He would bet they are all hollowed out for stashing. 

His boots meeting the floor is a sound that echoes down the long hallway, his keys jingling against his side. He glances into the office first, surprised to find it vacant. There’s another room with the door open at the end of the hall and he creeps down as slow as he can manage. 

A laugh rings out from inside and Jisung relaxes. Hyunjin. 

A break room of sorts welcomes him with bright yellow walls and a dark blue couch. Dark wood makes up a coffee table sitting on top of a multi-color rug. In the back, a small bar with a filled coffee pot and mugs calls to him. Hyunjin’s back is pressed to one arm of the couch, his feet thrown over Seungmin’s lap.

Jisung likes to imagine for a moment that everything is normal. He lets his imagination paint the picture of being a normal employee at a video rental store, with equally mundane co-workers and an uneventful life. Maybe he still lives with his parents in this reality. 

It’s a life that could have been his. If his mom didn’t die, if his dad didn’t disappear, if his sister didn’t join a gang and probably fall at the hands of them. It’s a life he could have if Jisung had grown up in a city that didn’t run off gambling, if he himself wasn’t obsessed with risk. It’s a life he could’ve had, but he doesn’t know if he wants it or not.

He wants his sister back. That’s all he knows. He also knows the likelihood of her even being alive is slimmer than a penny. That makes his stomach drop.

He knows he _could_ have that life, theoretically. He knows he would never have that life, realistically.

His fantasy is shattered by Hyunjin’s grinning face, twisting a bloodied knife in his hands. Jisung didn’t realize the amount of red covering his white shirt underneath the blazer he wears. It’s Seungmin’s blazer. 

He knows he would never have that life, realistically, because even if he led a life like that, Hyunjin never would. Seungmin wouldn’t either. Chan never had a choice and Blue has too many secrets for someone normal. Jisung wouldn’t be himself either if he were to live as an ordinary person. 

Even if it’s not for the better, the life he lives now is for something. 

“What’s got the Devil leaving Hell so early?” Hyunjin twists the knife in his hands, effectively cutting his finger. Before Jisung can evaluate whether or not it was an accident, Seungmin gently takes the knife and grabs a paper towel. Hyunjin doesn’t pay him or his bleeding finger any attention.

“That informant from the Aces.” Jisung observes Seungmin wetting the paper towel, running it back over to press against Hyunjin’s finger. “Blue and I are supposed to go check it out.”

“Oh, that’s right! Tell me, Jisung, are you nervous? Maybe a little on edge?” Leaning forward from where his back presses into the couch, Hyunjin stares at him with a menacing grin and twinkling eyes. Jisung would like to think he’s grown used to Hyunjin, at least grown used to ignoring him, but it’s times like these where he questions himself. His eyes are a bottomless void just beckoning Jisung to come closer, daring him to fall.

“Why would I be nervous?” His throat clenches around the word, but he forces it to leave his tongue. Blood continues to soak the paper towel wrapped around Hyunjin’s finger, and the man in question continues to ignore his injury. 

“Oh, you know. There’s always that possibility you’re being led directly to your death.” A laugh bubbles out of him, high-pitched and somewhat off-key. It vibrates off Jisung’s spine, ricocheting through his body in the form of a chill. He swallows.

“I’ll have Blue with me.” A lame attempt to comfort himself more than convince Hyunjin, but it comes out weakly. The elder agent hasn’t shown his face since the Aces sent someone to surgically remove his left lung.

“In his current state, Blue’s as helpful as a ragdoll.” Hyunjin giggles behind his hand, his eyes lighting up a second later, “Actually, he’s even less helpful than that! At least you could throw a ragdoll at your attacker.”

“How about being our stand-in, then?” A booming voice comes from directly behind Jisung, the hairs on his skin standing straight like needles of a porcupine. Blue relaxes against the door frame, propped on his arm. “We can throw _you_ at the attacker, buys us a few extra minutes.”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” Hyunjin blinks thrice with a smile. 

“So now the one who bugged his leader’s office is going to preach to me about eavesdropping?” Blue scoffs, his hair gently brushing over his forehead when he shakes his head. The slick and expensive style he normally sports is switched out for baggy clothes and barely combed locks lying on his forehead. 

“Precisely.” Hyunjin shifts to his hands and knees, crawling the length of the couch to drape across the other arm. Jisung can’t decide what is about him today that sets him on edge, but something feels off.

“Hey. Hey, Blue? What happened on Saturday night?” His voice lifts at the end, phrased as an innocent question. Hyunjin is anything but innocent. “Because, you see, I have a problem, Blue. I have a problem. I have a problem with dear Seungmin here receiving a call before dawn breaks, when he should be sleeping, you know how little sleep he gets, because somebody tried to gut you in an alleyway.”

“It seems to me you’ve answered your own question, Hyunjin.” Blue cocks his head, eyebrow raised and face a blank slate. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it seems I did. Don’t make it a regular occurrence.” Hyunjin grins even wider, his lips stretched over teeth so tightly that it pulls on the sides of his mouth. “If you do, the next person to try to gut you won’t be an Ace.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was being threatened.” Blue doesn’t move, hardly reacting at all to Hyunjin’s comment.

“Oh, I would hate for your pretty little brain to have to use context clues.” Hyunjin sighs dramatically, “Don't you worry. It was absolutely a threat.” 

“No worries, Hyunjin.” Blue smiles, empty and cold in a way only Blue manages to be, “I’ll be sure to call _you_ next time.”

“Wonderful. I can't wait to go to your funeral knowing I could’ve changed that outcome.” 

Blue offers an amused nod as the only form of response. He lingers in the doorway for another moment, before the distinct sound of his footsteps retreating echos down the hall. Eyes find Hyunjin’s.

“Hey, Jisung? Who do you think patched Blue up Saturday night? When he nearly got pigged?” Chin cradled in his hands, Hyunjin blinks at him with the look of a baby deer. As an anticipater, Jisung tries his best to predict Hyunjin’s next move, only to come up completely empty.

“He didn’t say when he called?” An effective dodge, but it won’t hold the fortress for long. Hyunjin only asks when he knows. How he knows so much is the question.

“He was a bit busy trying to keep his liver inside his body. You know how those things go.” 

He does not know how those things go, but for the sake of time, he’ll pretend he does

“Maybe he patched himself up. Blue is pretty capable.” Confirming Blue’s location the night of his injury is a one-way ticket to his bad side. There is a reason Blue left off the detail of his whereabouts, and the last thing Jisung wants is to force his hand. Dodging the question is the best option he has.

“He is.” A sigh escapes Hyunjin’s mouth following his hum, “But he didn’t do that handiwork. It had to be done by another. So, let me ask again. Who patched Blue up?”

“If you know so much about the handiwork, then you shouldn’t need me to answer that question for you.” 

Seungmin settles at the other end of the couch, against the arm Hyunjin was previously draped over. His hands secure themselves around Hyunjin’s ankles and gently maneuver him into a more comfortable position. Jisung makes note of this, and the several other little things about these two.

“You want to know what I think, parasite?” Arms folding against the couch, the smiling boy peers up at Jisung through his lashes, “I think our dear friend painicked when he started bleeding in the middle of the night, alone. And I think he ran on those little legs of his to wherever it is that you live. I think you patched him up, and all other that romance-novel bullshit.” 

“I was asleep at four in the morning on Saturday.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “Why does it matter who patched Blue up?” 

“Because it _was_ you. I’m really intelligent, you know. Did you know that?” Before a response can formulate in his brain, the other man contimes, “Of course, you didn’t. Don’t let my demeanor fool you, I’m pretty observant. I don’t give a rat’s ass if both of you turn up rotting in a dumpster. But if you cause the ole brood any more problems, I’ll have to put you there myself.”

“Did you major in threats? They’re quite creative.” He quips, “What do you mean any more problems?”

“Are you a straight man, Jisung? A heterosexual?” 

A chill runs the length of Jisung’s spine. The answer is right on the tip of his tongue, but his throat contracts before it can shove it out. Since he began his life on the run, life partners are considered to be luxuries and they're one he cannot afford. However, his seventeen years before his life took this turn were not lived in blind ignorance.

“How is that your business?” Is what squeaks out of his throat. Naturally having taken the defensive side, he feels his toes curl toward his body when Hyunjin giggles. 

“I’m making it my business.” The taller man chirps in that sing-song voice that makes Jisung feel mocked. Blue is waiting for him outside and he doesn’t have the time to continue playing games with Hyunjin.

“Not that it’s any of your concern,” He begins, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, “but I’m not. I’m homo-ace.”

“And I’m homicidal. See, the power of sharing is so magical.” Hyunjin laughs once more. Jisung can never tell if it’s at him, with him or simply not involving him. “That makes my concerns a little less likely, but I’ll still slit your throat if you give our top agent any more reasons to be an insufferable prick.”

Hyunjin rolls over onto his back, his feet kicking out and landing in Seungmin’s lap. The younger of them doesn’t react, he simply moves his hands to rest on his ankles. He doesn’t speak a word as he passes the knife he sliced his own finger with back to him, staring down at the book he has opened during their conversation.

Jisung takes it as his ticket out of here and the sound of his boots speaking against freshly cleaned floors is an echo he has never been so happy to hear. 

The car is around back this time, just beyond the wall of the conference room. They aren’t taking the expensive black ones today, per Chan’s request to blend in. Instead, a white SUV awaits him when he locks the door behind his back, gravel crunching beneath his boots.

Blue is already sitting behind the steering wheel, one fist curled tight around it. A baseball cap sits snug over his head, shielding the view of his eyes from the front. As soon as Jisung’s door closes, the gear shifts and he hits the accelerator.

“How’s the _problem_?” Wind rushes in through the open windows, assaulting his ears and forcing his voice louder than it needs to be. His question hangs in the air without acknowledgment for a few seconds.

“You’re not talking me out of this.” Blue replies, jerking the wheel to the right in a sharp move. The car swerved into the fast lane, horns blaring behind them. “If Chan couldn't do it, you sure as hell can’t.” 

“I’m not trying to talk you out of anythi— Fucking hell, are you trying to kill us?” The car swerves yet again, cutting off another and Blue’s foot drives into the gas pedal. He smirks.

“Don’t worry about me, a little cut isn’t enough to take me out.”

Three lanes at once are crossed as Blue flies onto the exit ramp, not bothering to stop at the red light and just narrowly avoiding a collision. Jisung’s knuckles are white around the handle at the top of the car, his body moving every time the car makes a slight jerk. His teeth grit together as Blue blows another red light.

“A little cut may not be enough, but perhaps a gutting might.” 

Blue chuckles, the wind carrying it straight to Jisung’s ear. It’s uncharacteristic, much lighter and softer than anything that usually leaves Blue’s mouth. It’s pretty. 

“My body’s fatigue will slow me down before the injury does. There’s no need to be concerned about my performance.” Blue swings left, taking an uphill road just off the main highway. The trees grow thicker and the city grows farther away as they head up the mountain. “How good are you at hand-to-hand combat?”

“I’m decent.” 

“Good, because I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” 

Before there is a chance to question the meaning behind that, the car pulls into a gravel parking lot. A one-story warehouse glares at them from behind a fence, its bleak and colorless walls scraped of paint make it look abandoned. Blue kills the engine and passes Jisung the key without a word.

They approach the fence carefully, ears straining to hear a buzz. They’re met with silence and the ridges of the fence don’t look to be sharper than they should be. A careful hand reaches for the padlock, palm encircling it in an iron grip. One solid tug is all it takes for the lock to give and the fence leans back under the force.

Hand on his gun, Blue side-steps the open part of the barrier, rolling his feet over the gravel to middle the sound. Jisung copies his movements down to the step placement, hoping to minimize his noise as well. After all, Blue’s efforts go to waste if he can be heard.

Two large metal doors taunt them from the side of the long building. A quick check of the perimeter shows a vacant street and vacant parking lot. They didn’t pass a car on the way up either. Jisung draws his gun as well and braces his shoulder against the door.

Their bodies pull back and slam into the door a total of four times before it gives way under their combined weight. Gravel turns to clean tile as they stumble into the main interior of the warehouse, walls covered with plastic wrap and lined with boxes. It reminds Jisung of the back room where Hyunjin takes his _activities_. 

Meeting the informant at a warehouse is a risky move, especially considering their rank within their own organization. However, being with a partner of such high status, Jisung came expecting a little more than he sees. He expects a lab set up, maybe a man sitting in a large chair surrounded by goons feeding him grapes. He expects flashy and big and everything the Aces have proven themselves to be.

What he doesn’t expect is there to be a single person sitting cross-legged in the middle of the nearly empty warehouse, thumb scrolling through his phone. 

He feels a bit less stupid when he sees the look of surprise mirrored on Blue’s face as well. None of the speak, letting the _click-click-clicks_ of the unknown man’s typing fill the void. He and Blue still clutch their guns close to their bodies, though it's beginning to feel ridiculous.

“You could've knocked.” They’re addressed by the unknown without so much as a glance upwards. The typing continues and he only

looks up when he notices their silence. 

Hair freshly dyed blond and green contacts clearly fake, the man looks like a human Ken doll. His earrings catch the light when he tilts his head to the left, eyes boring into their frames. Long lashes blink at them. 

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” The smirk that crosses his face is the exact indication Jisung needs to know, however, the pieces slot together just a moment too late for action.

His vision is suddenly snatched from him, replaced by darkness and a struggle to breathe. His leg kicks back, digging into the shin of the culprit, and he presses deeper until the man stumbles. He removed his head from the bag, tossing it to the ground. 

The unknown remains relaxed from his position on the floor, watching the scene with disinterest. Jisung swings left at his attacker, his fist connecting with the sharp jaw his attacker sports. His right fist swipes under and lodges itself into the stomach of the larger man.

From his peripherals, he spots Blue handling himself as well. His palm lays flat on the ground, one of his legs flying up ika circular motion and connecting with his own attacker’s face. Jisung is brutally ripped from his observation when he hits the ground, the large man sitting on his abdomen and rearing his hand back. 

He braces for an impact that doesn't come. His eyes open in time to see the other man serve as a flying doll. They collide and it sends his kidnapper soaring off of him. Immediately, he gets to his feet again. 

“You okay?” He looks to Blue, tight blue shirt staining on the sides with the blood soaking through. His partner tightens the jacket around his left, hiding the stain. 

“I’m fine.”

Both heads turn to where the unknown was previously sitting, only to find the spot empty. Panic fills into the whites of Blue’s eyes, darting everywhere around the building. His hands clench into fists by his side, a gulp traveling down his throat.

Jisung instinctively reaches for his gun, only to come in contact with an empty holster. His eyes dart to the floor, searching around his feet and the bodies of the two men. Then, the telltale sign of his gun cocking.

Jisung doesn’t dare turn around. 

“Nice show there, boys.” The unknown laughs, sounding genuinely pleased, “Unfortunately, I had to have a bit of a distraction, I know you understand.”

A sharp pain spreads up the right side of Jisung’s head, momentum of the swing bringing him down to his knees. There’s an instantaneous throbbing and his vision blurs. His hands aren’t strong enough to support him and he falls flat to the ground within seconds of the blow.

“It’s all necessary precautions.” The unknown quips. Jisung is only seeing black spots, but he can barely make out the sound of the crowbar colliding with another head. A body slumps next to him and he forces his eyes open to see Blue’s unconscious face, before everything goes dark.

+++

His head is buzzing.

He doesn’t know anything right now, the muscles in his body not yet awake enough to move. But his head is buzzing. That’s all he knows.

Little-by-little, Jisung begins to feel the rest of his body. His hands can’t move, he doesn’t know why yet, but at least his fingers are still there. The buzzing in his head gets worse when the throbbing pain kicks in and his throat releases a heavy groan. He instinctively moves to press his hand to the side of his head where the wound is, but his hands really can’t move.

The first attempt to open his eyes has him immediately squeezing them shut. He stares up at a sharp overhead light, stinging all the back behind his eyes. He tries again, blinking against the harsh luminescence. His head throbs again.

A tug of his hands jerks him back and he retreats the motion again and again only to not move at all. They’re bound.

His surroundings trickle in and process. He’s sitting in a chair. He is tied to that chair by his hands and— yep, his feet are tied too. Something brushes his hand every so often, something soft. 

He’s in a living room, or at least, what he thinks is a living room. The walls around him appear to be a cabin structure, multi-colored rug under his feet. A fire is crackling beside him. He is not alone.

A man stands in front of him, blond and green-eyed and smirking like he knows everything about Jisung. Oh yeah. 

This is Mark Tuan, an tech guru for the Aces. He called Chan last week because he wanted to stop whatever the Aces are up to this time. This is Mark Tuan, the Ace informant.

This is Mark Tuan, who took a crowbar to the side of his head. 

“Morning, princess.” Mark Tuan greets with a smile, “You were out for a good few hours there. I wouldn’t have hit you so hard if I knew that.” 

Jisung considers himself to be a fairly reasonable guy. He doesn’t tend to lash out or get overly angry, he may be a little impulsive occasionally, but he tends to think things through. He is an expert at looking at the bigger picture. However, as Mark Tuan laughs in his face in a way that can only be seen as mocking, he feels like being temperamental is a little justified. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” A shout rips from his chest, buried so deep within him that it shocks even Jisung to hear it exit. Mark seems taken aback, but only for a moment. A sharp pull at Jisung’s wrist has his attention zeroing in on what he is bound to. He isn’t tied to the chair, he’s tied to a person.

“No, I’m quite sane, actually. I know that’s not something you Strays are used to.” Mark leans back in the maroon recliner, arms folded over his chest. “Everyone knows half your inner circle is missing some pieces.” 

“Missing pieces means the edges are sharp,” A voice says from behind Jisung, “try not to get cut.” 

Hearing his partner’s voice has never made him so happy in the entire time he’s known him. A sense of calm washes over his body. 

“Is that a knife joke, Blue?” Mark chuckles, elbows balancing on his knees when he leans forward, “You had a lot of them on you, in places I would never even think to look. I still haven’t decided whether or not your pieces are missing.”

Jisung doesn’t have to see Blue’s face to feel the icy glare he sends Mark’s way. The Ace doesn’t react to it, his eyes honing in on where their hands are tied together. He lifts his fingers and makes a vague motion that looks like a tornado. A man emerges from the corner of the room, carrying a small knife.

Fuck.

When Jisung imagines the infinite ways he would die, this one has always crossed his mind temporarily. Not in this exact fashion, of course, but death by torture of a rival gang didn’t seem that far-fetched when he began his ascent in the Stray’s ranks. The thought has crossed his mind a few times before now, but that doesn’t make him dread it any less. 

His fingers tremble without his control, an embarrassing detail that is impossible for Blue not to notice. His partner is so calm and collected, even as he stares down the man more than likely coming to dig that knife into their chests. His hands don’t shake.

Instead of shaking, Blue’s hand slides easily into Jisung’s and grips him with a strength that makes his knuckles crunch. Whether the gesture is meant as a threat or a soother doesn’t matter, because Jisung’s hands stop shaking when they’re encased in Blue’s. His skin is softer than Jisung would have thought, even if his hands are just a little smaller.

His restraints refuse to budge when he pulls against them, shaking the chair he sits in. He feels Blue try a similar tactic, only to give up after a few unsuccessful attempts. Jisung just hopes it’ll be quick.

The man gets closer, twirling the knife between his fingers and smiling. He isn’t necessarily intimidating, but there’s a look in his eye that makes Jisung want to recoil instantly. Bending down, the man levels himself with their interlocked hands and Jisung braces himself for the cold tip of the knife dragging against his skin.

Pressure against his wrists, the restraints digging into the smooth skin. Is he hurting Blue first? 

The pressure is gone with a snap and Jisung feels his body tense when his wrists go limp. It’s easier to move them and it takes him a moment to regain feeling and realize the wires are gone. 

The man moves to Jisung’s feet and sure enough, the wires around his ankles fall. There’s no slicing of his skin, no fast movements that end with a knife buried in his muscles. He’s being… freed?

“I contacted the Strays because I genuinely believe that whatever connections your inner ring has to the Aces is what’s going to bring them down.” Mark stands from the recliner, motioning at the man now cutting the wires on Blue’s ankles.

“It’s unclear as to what exactly makes you the only group capable of rivaling us.” The other man says, suddenly breaking into a warm smile, “But whatever it is, it’s giving us a chance to make things right. My name’s Bambam.”

Words do not come for several long seconds. Two seconds ago, Jisung thought this smiling and friendly stranger was going to turn him outside down and let his organs drain into the kitchen sink. Now, that same stranger is offering his hand to help him out of the chair. 

“Cool.” Blue is the first one to disrupt the silence, irritation lining the edges of his contribution, “Did you have to give us concussions and tie us up to go forth with that speech?”

A chuckle comes from Bambam, the knife he twirls slipping into a small sheath on his hip. Mark shakes his head, amusement painting crinkles stemming from the corners of his eyes. 

“I can’t trust you, at least, not entirely.” He says it with such good nature that Jisung almost can’t believe he’s an Ace, “I couldn’t have you knowing where my secret little hideout was. Though, I agree the crowbar to the head was a bit dramatic, my bad.”

“While I’m thrilled you admit the concussions were an overkill, they did give me a really bad headache, so can we just get to the point of why we were given head trauma?” Jisung lightly rubs at his wrists, trying to ignore the way he wants to check his head for blood. It feels like his head got crushed.

“You two can sit on the couch.” Mark points at a long burgundy couch behind them. With the way the wood edges of the chair digs into his back, Jisung can’t help but think it looks like the coziest and softest thing he’s ever seen. Blue seems to agree with how quickly he stands from his seat.

“You recently stole a file from Lee Minhyuk.” Mark begins, settling back into the recliner as Bambam perches on the arm, “Do you know what is in that file?”

“We passed it on to our boss. It hasn’t been brought up since.” Blue speaks for the both of them. His posture is straight, hands folded in his lap. He’s attempting not to spread his DNA any further, Jisung notes.

“There were blueprints for a new factory on the coast of Peru. There were also plans for three other similar factories in Malaysia, New Zealand and Monrovia.” Mark ticks them off his fingers with each one he lists.

“What kind of factories?” 

“Lee Minhyuk works for an oil company, but they have a sister company that does manufacturing.” Blue sighs, eyes finding Mark, “Why would they secure blueprints in a safe? Isn’t that suspicious? Why not hide them in plain sight?” 

“Because the company’s their setting up are not going to be directly linked to ones here.” A laptop lands in Mark’s lap, courtesy of Bambam. “They’ll present them as acquisitions, buying out another company, but not labeling it with tell-tale logos and names. But it’s all fake, they aren’t starting new companies or buying out less successful ones.”

“Something tells me the files from the office have something to do with this.” Jisung murmurs low enough that only Blue can hear it. His partner tenses at the mention of those files, blood running ice cold on his veins.

“So, they’re using these “companies” to wash money? How exactly is that concerning?” Eyebrows knit together, Blue frowns as he asks the question. Something doesn’t feel right here.

“No. They’re using these companies to recruit.” Bambam speaks up. Gone is the cheery and friendly attitude they saw earlier, replaced by a grim expression and worry lines on his forehead, “They’re using it to push a new drug to foreign markets.”

“Why do we give a shit if the Aces are involved in the drug business?” Jisung breaks in, head aching and exasperated. His eyes keep catching on the stain on Blue’s shirt, the way the blood coating it is still fresh. Mark presses the heel of his hand to his forehead when Jisung speaks. “The Aces being involved in drugs is no surprise to literally anyone, why should we give a damn about what new markets they’re pursuing?”

“Because this is extremely dangerous.” Aggravation seeps into the corners of Bambam’s face, his eyes hardening as they stare into Jisung. He still isn’t understanding whatever it is they want him to, and judging by Blue’s silence, he doesn’t either.

“Maybe for you guys, but the Strays aren’t involved with drugs. Why would we start a gang war over this? Why would we risk our own lives? Why is this more serious than pushing weed?” 

“Because this damn thing is a murder weapon and the victims will be children!” It’s Bambam who finally snaps the chord they were all so delicately walking. Fabric bunches in Blue’s fist, fingers clenching around burgundy cotton. Jisung watches that hand closely as it squeezes around the couch. His face remains neutral.

“Explain.” Is all he says in response, voice level and cold.

“Bambam, I think—“

“My sister is one of the runners.” Mark is interrupted by the sentence, “She doesn’t have a clue what she was running. Any contact with this drug, any chance for it to enter your body, is a death sentence. They plan to use kids to bum it out to other kids and then see how it works. They figured their bodies would be the least tainted and they could really see how the drug will affect a human body.”

“What exactly is the goal here?” Jisung shifts forward, subtly knocking Blue’s hand with his knee and forcing his partner’s grip on the couch loose. It’s lost on Mark and Bambam, but Blue shoots him a look that quickly disappears when he sees how his fingernails are beginning to crack.

“Foreign markets.” Mark answers, running a hand down his face and turning the computer in his lap to face them. It shows the four destinations highlighted. Peru, Monrovia, New Zealand, and Malaysia. “They’re going to sell this drug to foreign gangs. Do you know how dangerous that’ll be? It could start international gang wars, and some of these dictators have afflictions with the bigger gangs.”

“In other words,” Blue cuts in, words sharp and cutting past every vague hint Mark is trying to give, “your bosses are trying to start World War III via chemical warfare?”

“How is that even possible?” Jisung looks at them all incredulously, every face staring back at him as blank as a fresh canvas, “This is a gang we're talking about. A _local_ gang, they don’t have the power to create chemical warfare and definitely don’t have the power to start a war.”

“The Aces don’t have that power, you’re right.” Mark clicks on Peru, and the face of a man all too familiar pops up on screen, “But he does. His men do.”

“Is that…?”

“Yes. His name is Python, he’s a Malaysian drug lord and one of the most wanted men in the world. If the Aces manage to be the only suppliers of a drug like this, it basically guarantees an alliance.” The top of the laptop shuts with a _click!_

The new information sits heavy with each of them, frowns pulled deep and minds buzzing. The Aces sacrificing their own children, sacrificing middle-schoolers just to test out new drugs. The thought obviously upsets Blue, his eyebrows scrunched and teeth indents on his lips. After the Aces took Jeongyeon, Jisung can’t allow them to do something like that to another child.

“So, how do we help?”

Blue looks up so fast, he swears a crack sounded from his neck. Mark and Bambam seem caught off-guard as well, but their composure resumes to its normal stature.

“We aren’t the only Aces who feel this way about the deal, several Clubs and Diamonds are looking for a way out already. Clubs know they’ll be the first ones sent to deliver and it’s scaring them.”

For some reason, Jisung thinks of Tzuyu. She wasn’t as young as the kids in the photos found on the Lakeshore mission, but she can’t be much older than him. Her eyes were kind. Jisung simply can’t get over how kind her eyes were.

“I have a feeling there’s some Aces working together, conspiring against the bosses.” As the words leave Mark’s mouth, Blue’s body goes stiff. It isn’t much different from the way he’s been sitting so far, but Jisung notices. He notices how his shoulders stop moving and his hands no longer twist the rings on his fingers around. He notices the look in his partner’s eyes at the mention of Aces escaping. 

“That’ll get them killed if they’re found out, which should tell you how bad it is that they’re willing to risk it.” Bambam adds. He sweeps the laptop up in his hands and moves it out of Mark’s lap.

“How can we be sure that what you’re telling us is true?” Blue interjects. The last word shakes slightly, though his face doesn’t show the reason behind it. Jisung pretends not to notice how his partner seems to be crumbling by the second. There’s fresh blood leaking from the side of his wound, his hand itching to press against it. It’s unclear what caused the sudden rush of blood, if it ever stopped bleeding in the first place.

“Because Blue,” Mark smiles, joyless with just a hint of solemnity, “the value of an Ace can be one or eleven.” 

Blue’s eyes lock onto Mark’s with an intensity Jisung has never yet seen before. Several moments of quiet pass, yet neither one of them look away. A question peaks through the corners of Blue’s eyes, a question he doesn’t dare ask aloud.

Reaching inside his jacket, Mark presents a single playing card. It’s an Ace of Spades. Bambam produces one of his own. But there’s one thing that sets them apart from the everyday Ace of Spades playing card.

The corner is folded down, marked with a red “A” below the bend.

Jisung nearly passes out. 

Several memories flicker in his mind at once. The photo he refuses to acknowledge that he’s locked into a desk drawer, the card he somehow lost and was mysteriously returned to him, the way his sister’s little trick seems to be a common communication among Aces. The red “A” says too much and yet not enough. He feels sick, the same way he felt when he received those photos of Blue and Fleming.

“Was it Jaebeom? Did he send you?” A usually cold tone is replaced by something almost fragile in Blue. Stoic as ever, his face remains unchanging, lips pressed into a thin line. He’s even trained his body not to tense, but there’s something in his voice, something Jisung notices. It isn’t dead, maybe… Regret?

“He wants you to know that he succeeded, that nothing happened eight years ago to him.” The card slips into the sleeve of Mark’s blazer, his voice soft and comforting. 

“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” Voice cracking, Blue shakes his head and the tears threatening to gather in his eyes are shaken away with the motion, “It’s too dangerous. I shouldn’t know anything about him anymore.”

“People talk, Blue. With the way things went down, you’re lucky they've even kept quiet this long. But they won’t keep quiet forever.” Mark clears his throat, finally breaking the eye contact, “It's been eight years, I think it’s time you break your silence.” 

“No.” Blue’s response comes immediately and without thought or reason. “Jaebeom and I had an agreement.”

“You and Jaebeom both forget that there was a third person in your plans. And if my memory is anything to go on, _he_ never had a problem with disturbing the peace.” 

“He wouldn't. He’s too smart, I taught him better than that.” 

A sigh ripples from Mark to Bambam, the former of the two pursing his lips. He seems to turn over a thought in his head, taking careful consideration before speaking it. Ultimately, he decides to do so.

“Eight years changes a person.” He says, watching carefully for Blue’s reaction, “He’s not the same kid you knew.”

Eyes falling to his hands, Blue’s silence says everything he won’t voice. Seemingly the only one in the dark, Jisung works with the pieces he has to build a puzzle, but the missing pieces are apparently the most vital to the picture. He can’t help but feel as though he’s staring at an incomplete painting. 

A range of emotion flashes across Blue’s face in the following moments, things that could mean too many things at once.

“Mark. How do you know that?” Blue’s head lifts, eyes zeroing in on the Ace, “How do you know what he’s like now?”

“Our…” Mark trails off, his bottom lip sucking between his teeth and Jisung sees anger pool in the eyes of his partner. He feels both confused and useless. “Our paths may have crossed once or twice since the event.”

“His path shouldn’t be crossing with any of _your_ kind.” Blue snaps. Bambam’s head darts up first, glaring directly at Blue.

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Have you seen him _recently_?” Blue presses on, completely ignoring Bambam’s warning. The air is tense again, that tension only growing as Mark runs his hands together in an attempt to stall. 

“Personally, I haven’t seen him in two years. But, I can't say it’s the same for others.” 

“What others?”

“Maybe you should ask your little girlfriend about that.”

Blue visibly retracts. Blood rushing through his veins comes to a still stop at the mention of her, the same pang flowing in his chest that he’s only ever felt once before her. The feeling that makes his stomach sink, his head bound and every shred of himself crumble to pieces. It’s a feeling he would rather sell his soul than feel again.

“She isn't and never was my girlfriend, disgusting you would assume that.” Blue begins, his hands beginning to shake in his lap, “Secondly, what does—“

He stops. His eyes slid to Jisung’s frame, the first time in several minutes he has acknowledged his presence. Those eyes staring at him now in consideration feels his mind with worry.

“What does _she_ have to do with _him_?” He settles on that, turning back to face Mark. The latter of the two shrugs.

“The Queen is a very secret woman, I’m sure you’ve figured this out by now. Anyway, she fell off the radar around the same time you did. Nobody’s heard from her since.”

“Somebody has, they just haven’t said anything.”

“Maybe so.” Mark shrugs again, “It's hard to tell. Look, Blue, we can help each other here. If what Jaebeom told me is true, then you know how relentless the bosses can be. They won’t spare these kids, they didn’t spare you.” 

“It’s not our decision. It’s our leader’s. I’ll take this information back to him, what he says goes.” Blue stands from the couch, dusting the back of his pants off and extending a hand, “I’ll vouch for you, but if you sell me out, don’t think I’ll hesitate for even one second to turn you over to Hyunjin to be his new plaything.” 

“Promising a fate worse than death?” Mark laughs, rising to his feet as well and gripping Blue’s hand in an iron grip, “I’ll be sure not to double cross you. You have my word.”

“That doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“You have Jaebeom’s word.”

That seems to be satisfactory for Blue, who releases Mark’s hand and steps back toward the couch. Jisung stands as well, shaking Mark’s hand without much conversation. Mind still reeling from trying to put the pieces together of an unsolvable puzzle, he’s beginning to feel the effects of a possible concussion.

“I hope you understand that we have to chloroform you now.” A rag appears in his hand, doused with liquid. “Just safety measures.”

Jisung steps up to go first.

The gentle press of the rag against his nose has Jisung’s eyes closing on impact and he inhales once, twice, three times before his world slowly fades to black.

+++

Their return to the shop is accented by the drooping sun falling below the horizon. Neither of them can think straight, side-effects of concussions and inhaling chloroform within the same day taking their toll on their minds. The car ride back is spent in still silence, the humming engine beneath them offering the only proof that they’re still present. 

Jisung only interrupts the tranquility once. 

What was once a simple inconvenient burn in his throat has grown into a fire. His insides twist as the flames crawl up the walls of his body, seeping across his bones and leaving behind a lingering smoke that doesn’t go away. Sometimes, the flames grow smaller, nearly diminished. Then, they’ll grow away and the smoke leaks into his mouth and clings to his tongue, the fire scraping against his pursed lips and threatening to spill out.

He never lets it. The flame grows and dies in a never-ending cycle, like a candle being re-lit every time it begins to fade. 

Sometimes, when the flame is small and the burn is at its minimum, he doesn’t feel as hopeless and lost. When the flame barely hangs on to its life at the wick, he truly believes that maybe he can be okay, move on and live. Maybe he can someday be okay without her.

Other days, when the flame is an unstoppable blaze that seems to sweep up his very being in its heat, he feels like there isn’t any point anymore. When the fire leaves his skin scalding and his heart pounding in agony, he can’t imagine his life at the end of this chapter. He wants justice for her, in the form of a body, a confession, anything. He wants it so badly, he hasn’t stopped to think about what he’ll do when he has the proof, proof she's really gone.

The Strays were appealing to him for many reasons. The rival of the Aces, the only other gang that could do what the Aces do, but also because of the name. He didn’t imagine they would be so close-knit. 

The Strays are a family, dysfunctional and incredibly reluctant to accept that, but a family. The main six are independent, yet he doesn’t doubt they would die for each other. He’s an outsider to them. They attribute it to his being new, but Jisung knows it’s more than that. Out of the core seven, Jisung is the only one who is truly alone. The Strays’ only stray. Irony works in strange ways.

Jisung only interrupts the tranquility once, in hopes of putting out the fire.

“When did you leave the Aces?” 

The question is unprompted and seemingly random, but it isn’t to Jisung. The bent corners, the use of “ _her_ ” and the possibility he gets closer and closer to acknowledging the existence of. Everything points in adjacent directions, but there’s one road that somehow lands on all of them, and he has to know if that's the one he’s traveling. 

Blue doesn’t speak, though he hardly ever offers a quick reply to Jisung’s questions. The silence following any inquiry is something Jisung has grown used to, something he’s grown to expect. It takes less time than usual today.

“Two years ago.”

Ah. So, he’s not on the path he believed he was on. His sister fell off six years ago, not two. Perhaps he has it wrong and the card trick isn’t something unique to her, but an _Ace_ trick. But why leave the Queen card? In six years, he still can’t figure out what that card means.

He doesn’t ask anymore questions and Blue doesn’t pry about the one he did. They spend the rest of the ride in silence, but it’s not very peaceful. 

The shop has been closed down for the night, but the back door is still open when they walk up, leading them right into the warehouse. Blue continues into the hall, Jisung following close behind him. Abruptly, his partner’s steps come to a haunt and Jisung collides with his back, nearly letting out a yelp. Blue’s hand clasps over his mouth before he can, the older’s shoulder digging in between his shoulder blades.

“As thrilled as I am to be having this conversation with you at eleven o’ clock, I’m afraid I still know nothing useful to your investigation.” Chan’s voice echoes into the hallway, calm and collected as he usually is. There’s an edge to the way he speaks, almost unpleasant.

“There’s DNA at the crime scene that doesn’t belong to the victim. Security cameras caught an image of a wounded man leaving the scene. A man matching his description hangs around this shop.” Another unrecognizable voice comes through and Jisung tenses at the mention of someone’s wounds. There’s only one incident that could be linked to.

“If you’re looking for a wounded man, he sounds like the crime may have been self-defense.” Chan replies, and Jisung can imagine him leaning against the door frame.

“Maybe so. We won’t know unless we speak with him.” The other voice sounds irritated and tired. 

“A lot of shady people hang around these parts.” Chan sighs, “Hardly anybody comes in here anymore, I don’t know your guy and I certainly don’t know anything about a murder.” 

“You gamble at the same place the victim did.” Another voice says and Jisung feels his stomach clench when he recognizes it. The commissioner. “The Rolling Eights.”

“Gambling isn’t a crime here and there’s hundreds of people who go to the Rolling Eights every night. It sounds like your concern should be there rather than here.” 

The conversation carries on another minute or two, before the first detective seems to give up. Their departure is signaled by the chiming of the bell and the door locking. Blue releases Jisung’s mouth and his hold on him, but they don’t dare step into view of the glass doors. 

Chan rounds the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he lays eyes on them. They narrow when he spots the blood coating Blue’s shirt at his side. 

“You, Hyunjin and Felix are calling in sick to work tomorrow.” He says, pointing a finger in Blue’s face, “We have a few things to discuss.”

+++

The sun is beginning to peak over the hills, painting the grass with a yellow hue when Jisung returns to his apartment. It takes a bit more effort than usual to avoid seeing anyone, the early-rising office workers already on the move and yelling into their bluetooths before the sun even finishes its ascent. Jisung doesn’t consider himself to be an expert at much, but he knows stealth. 

The stairwell is a sight he has yet to see in this building, but it’s the least likely route to catch traffic. He climbs those flights with unmatched speed, even though a part of him fears rounding a corner and coming nose-to-nose with Jeongin. He doesn’t, but the unease is still there every time he clears another flight.

There is nothing in his apartment that suggests anything has changed from the last time he left. The couch is still occupied by the blankets and pillows Blue slept on, the first aid kit is still sitting on the bathroom sink, his bedroom is still tidy in a way so specific that he would _know_ if someone had been poking around. His cologne bottle is turned exactly seventy-five degrees toward the door, the bottom left corner of his comforter is flipped upward onto the bed, his right house slipper is tilted away from the door with an inch in between them. 

Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that something inside this apartment is off. And he knows exactly what that is. 

The card is cold against his fingers, the face of a queen staring back at him almost mockingly. Everything seemed to add up. The Queen, the folded corners and the connections, only for everything to make no sense at all in the end. It brings him closer to the shattering truth. 

A high-pitched ringing pulls him from his thoughts, the card falling from his hands and landing on the floor. It takes two rings to realize it’s the phone and he attempts to conceal his surprise when he answers.

“We’ve got a mission.” Blue’s voice comes through before Jisung can even squeak out a greeting, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m at my apartment.” He replies quickly, slipping the card back into the mattress pocket. Blue hums on the other end.

“Good. Meet me at the pier tonight at seven. Until then, don’t leave your apartment and don’t let anybody see you.”

“Why? What’s going on?” 

“The Aces are tracking us. Their cops must have relayed the security footage to them. They’re after both of us now.” A door slamming interrupts Blue’s voice. There’s the sound of several locks clicking into place and Jisung can only imagine Blue is locking himself in as well.

“Got it, I’ll be safe here. Are you somewhere safe?” 

His feet carry him on autopilot to the windows, pulling the curtains shut over every single one. They’re black-out curtains, an extra measure he took for his own privacy, but they bathe the room in darkness. He also reassembles the first aid kit, preparing his emergency bag yet again. 

“I’m safe. Just make sure you don’t leave until tonight.” 

Before he can reply, the line goes dead. Jisung sighs and pockets the phone, placing his bag by the window with the fire escape as usual. He keeps his doors and windows locked, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety he feels being shut up in the walls. 

His tired eyes win the battle between overthinking and exhaustion and he finds himself locking his bedroom door for extra safety and collapsing onto the lumpy bed. He falls asleep to complete silence and the sound of the air conditioner running. 

The next time he awakes, it’s two in the afternoon and his stomach is painfully empty. He pulls himself from the sheets, head pounding and body sore. Damn Mark for hitting him so hard. 

All he has in his fridge is a carton of eggs and a water bottle. He has a pan and a pot, one of each that he bought when he first moved into this apartment. He tends to keep one of everything. One glass, one plate, one bowl, one set of utensils.

He spends the next several hours in front of a broken TV, watching sitcoms fade in and out of each other. The old owners had left it behind, and Jisung wasn’t opposed to keeping it. The color is terrible and the screen is busted but it's more than he has to his name.

Around six, he locks up his apartment and risks riding the elevator down to the first floor. The doors close behind him, leaving him alone for the few seconds down. His phone rings again.

“Hel—“

“Where are you?” Blue once again cuts him off, voice strong and alert. Jisung instantly feels it. Something isn’t right.

“I’m still at my complex, I’m headed your way now.”

“Get out of there now and do not get in your car.” Blue sounds out of breath, like he’s running. Jisung quickly presses a button, the elevator stopping at the third floor. He rushes off, taking the flight of stairs back up to his apartment.

“What? Why?”

“Jisung, do not go back up to your room!” Blue shouts, his voice stopping the latter in his tracks. How did he know he was going back? “Look, the Aces are there, they’re scouting the place to figure out where you live, if you get out now, maybe the entire fucking building of people won’t be held hostage!”

“If I can’t take my car, then what do I do? Run on foot?” Jisung is already climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, heading for the end of the hall where a window leads out to a fire escape.

“Run to the nearest bus stop, I’ll send Changbin for you.” In the background, Jisung can hear a woman screaming and then tires screeching in protest. He doesn’t have the time to question it, swinging his leg over the window sill and jumping down from the ladder. His ankles burn when he hits the ground and immediately breaks into a sprint. He remembers a bus stop only five miles from here.

The line once again goes dead and the phone buries into Jisung’s jacket pocket as he runs into the woods. The trees serve as his disguise for now. He runs near the treeline, hoping to catch sight of the bus stop. 

His heart slams against his rib cage with every step he takes, feet carrying him at a speed he didn’t even think possible for someone of his stature. His lungs begin to burn, throat closing in on the air attempting to push inward, but he doesn’t let it. The bus stop comes into view much quicker than he thought it would and his feet carry him to the sidewalk. Traffic is clear for the moment, so he risks the run across the street to where a bench is illuminated by street lights.

He almost makes it to the other side, before the squealing of tires catches his attention. A black car spins out of control as it rounds the corner, the driver finishing the turn before directing the vehicle in Jisung’s direction. He doesn’t have time to think and throws his body on to the concrete just as the car slams on the brakes beside him.

“Get in!” Changbin shouts, urgency all over his tone. It confuses Jisung for a moment, but he doesn’t waste time thinking about it. Another car swings around the corner just as he gets the passenger door open and Changbin hits the accelerator _hard_.

Jisung, only one foot in the car, tightens his grip on the open door as the car pulls off. The momentum flings his body inside and he lets go just in time to crash into the console as the door slams shut. That definitely would have severed his fingers. 

“I thought this was a rescue mission!” He screams, scrambling on the leather and clambering for the seatbelt. Changbin takes a sharp right that has him flying over the console again before he secures himself.

“It is! Congrats on being rescued, princess!” He flies into an underground parking garage, destroying the toll barrier and narrowly avoiding a woman taking groceries from her car. The car behind them only falters a little, giving them a few seconds extra. Changbin soars right through another toll barrier and back onto the street.

The other car flies out a second later, crashing right into the side of a passing vehicle. Their car swerves under a red light, horns blaring behind them. 

“There!” Jisung shouts, pointing to an alleyway up ahead. It’s narrow, but just enough to fit them. The car following them is bulkier on the sides, it won’t fit in such a confined space.

“This better work!” Changbin screams back, the car revving when he switches it back to automatic, twisting the wheel so sharply that the end of the car drifts. It keeps steady as they go through, Jisung letting out a breath of relief when they fit just perfectly through. The other car has no chance.

Bullets ricochet off the back of the vehicle, but none of them are enough to slow Changbin down. They exit the alleyway, merging back into traffic as if nothing happened. A few strange looks are tossed their way, but they blend right in.

“Thank you, my knight in shining armor.” The comment slips right off his tongue, a bit airy with the restriction on his lungs. Changbin huffs a short laugh, taking the exit that leads back to the video store.

“You weren't seen, were you?” 

“Don’t think so. Blue warned me in time to book it out of there.” The cold glass of the window is a soothing contrast to his warm forehead, his body relaxing instantly. Changbin shoots him a glance, a water bottle landing in his lap from seemingly nowhere.

“You sure you’re up for a mission tonight? After all that?” 

“It’s a stakeout.” Jisung shrugs, twisting the cap off the bottle and downing nearly half of it in one go, “I’ll be fine.”

They don’t speak for the rest of the ten minute ride to the shop, stopping at a gas station about a mile from it. Changbin doesn't say a word, he just climbs out of the car and opens the back door. A cloth is thrown up front.

“Wipe off anything you’ve touched.” He says and Jisung follows his orders despite his confusion. 

“Why?” He scrubs the window and the handles on the door. 

“Because this car ain’t mine.” 

“What?”

His mind floats back to his phone call with Blue as he climbed onto the fire escape. A woman who yelled in the background just before tires screeching. He shoots Changbin a glare.

“You stole this car?” He doesn’t need to phrase it like a question, but he does. Changbin just shrugs, not an ounce of guilt in his face. The rag glides over every inch of the car that Changbin has made contact with.

“I borrowed it.” Coming around to the passenger’s side door, he covers the handle with the rag and opens it with a bow. Jisung slowly climbs out. “I’m sure the lovely woman at the store will understand.” 

The lights around the lot are cheap and dull, surrounded by hoards of bugs and flicking every so often. A teenager sits behind the counter inside, typing at his phone and scratching at his acne scars every two minutes. The lot is mostly empty, only three cars at the pumps. 

One is a middle-aged man in a nice suit, designer watch glinting on his wrist. The gas pump has been set to pump until full, while the man leans against the silver Camaro, one cell phone in his hand and one in his pocket. There’s a bluetooth in his ear. If Jisung had to guess, he would say this man works an office job, probably high up in the company, but not high enough to have his voice actually matter. He matches his dress socks to his suit to make him seem taller, he scrolls through his emails in public to seem important to strangers. He has a nice car, probably a nice home and family, but he’s deep in debt and selling his life to a company that won’t ever promote him unless he threatens to leave, and he’ll stay with them as long as he can stand doing their dirty work.

The other is a woman, in her late twenties, in leggings and a large sweater. Her hair is tied into a loose blonde ponytail, but escaped pieces frame her face. The bags under her eyes and the muffled wails from her car give her away. She’s a young mother, probably unmarried from the lack of a ring on her finger. Her eyes track the gas price slowly, indicating a financial trouble or strict budget. Judging by how red and puffy her eyes are, she’s stressed, possibly from the baby but also because of that problem. She replaces the gas pump as soon as it cuts off, not bothering to fill her 2005 minivan all the way.

The third is a red Volvo, the driver sitting behind the wheel. His left side mirror doesn’t reveal much, only the image of a man with his cap pulled down below his eyes and dressed in mostly black. The pump isn’t hooked to the car at all. He appears to be waiting.

Changbin makes a beeline for the red car, his boots thudding against the asphalt with every step he takes. He doesn’t pause when he reaches it, opening the back door and crawling in. Jisung nearly does the same before the man behind the wheel looks up.

The passenger’s side door is unlocked and he slides into a leather seat in a much smoother manner than earlier tonight. Blue glances at him from under the cap. He knows that glance by now, could probably name at least five of them and what each of them mean. This one means he’s assessing his body for injuries.

He must be satisfied, because the key turns in the ignition and they pull back out onto the highway near the store. The rag lands in Blue’s lap as he drives and he doesn’t even glance at it.

“Burn it. Or give it to Hyunjin.” 

Blue doesn’t respond to Changbin’s demand and the second doesn’t repeat it. The back gate is open when they drive up and park next to the car Blue usually takes when they go on missions.

The back door opens and Changbin is out first. Jisung and Blue sit in silence, not exactly comfortable but not awkward either. It’s there, an empty and meaningless silence and they let it hang between them for as long as they can bear.

“You’re alright?” For a moment after it’s spoken, Jisung believes it to be a statement, a reassurance of some sort. However, the way Blue’s eyebrows pinch and his lips turn into a frown as he surveys his partner is all too telling. Jisung sends him his best smile, though a little frayed at the ends from nerves.

“Yeah, I got out in time. Nobody saw me.” He tries to speak confidently, in the way he knows Blue likes to hear. Something about his tone must be off, the deepening of Blue’s frown signals as much. In an attempt to brush it all off, Jisung climbs from the car and makes a point of strutting to the open door. His partner follows close behind.

“I have to grab the comms from—“ 

Blue is interrupted by Changbin’s exit from the back office, two black squares sitting pretty in his palms. One is already pressed firmly in his ear, hidden by the part in his dark hair. 

“You two are taking Hyunjin with you.” It’s a demand and one both of them do not have the energy to defy. As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, the devil himself slinks around the corner, flashing his pearly whites at the two of them.

“I don’t ever get to go on missions anymore.” Giggles infiltrate his sentence, acting as punctuation. A tight knot of hair sits atop his head, showing every sharp line and curve of his face. 

He’s attractive, in almost every way a person can be. There’s something about his eyes though, something dead and cold behind them that tells his life story without a single word spoken. It’s a sadness only matched by those who have truly gone off the deep end. Jisung wonders how close to the edge Hyunjin dares to tread. He isn’t sure he’ll like the answer.

Red glitter flows around his thighs as he moves deeper into the room, holding out his palm face-up. Changbin drops a single black square into it and the moment the item makes contact with skin, Hyunjin’s fist closes around it. He laughs again, to nothing funny.

The dress he wears has gold trim around the top and bottom, a detail that draws the eye to these areas. The tip of a dagger pokes out from a thigh guard. Jisung pretends he doesn’t notice.

With their devices, the trio begins their walk back to the parking lot where stone gives way to gravel under their feet. Jisung watches as his boots roll over the rocks, wedging themselves between the soles. His chest slams right into Blue’s outstretched arm, stumbling backwards and soliciting another giggle from Hyunjin. 

Turning to Blue, he prepares to question such an act, but he bites his tongue as he witnesses his partner squinting at the car they take. The keys slip from his pocket, finger fumbling until they find a certain button. 

“Might I ask why we’re stopped?” The prompt comes through Hyunjin’s manic chuckling. Blue’s eyes fall to the ground, redirecting onto his key ring. 

“Something feels… very off.” 

He presses a button on the key, a small _beep_ coming from the device. Nearly one hundred feet away, the car comes to life. It runs for a few moments and Blue shakes his head of whatever thoughts are brewing inside. A single step forward seems to trigger the event, though it is pure coincidence. 

A loud _boom_ shakes the ground beneath their feet, an unseen force knocking all three of them to their backs. There’s heat everywhere, hot enough to make the pain in his head a background thought for Jisung. His eyes open to fire engulfing the car, licking up the sides of surrounding vehicles. 

Before he can get his bearings, Jisung’s being pulled to his feet by a bewildered Chan, steadied against the door. Changbin stands there too, his hand pushed up under his bangs and mouth agape. The car is a frame of smoke and fire.

“What the hell happened?” Chan yells over the noise of car alarms and roaring fire. His voice fails him, Jisung can do nothing but watch the interior of the car burn bright until the night sky. Blue’s groaning is the only thing that snaps him from his daze, his hand pressed to his side once again. He finds the strength in his legs to help his partner to his feet.

“The fucking car exploded.” A series of grunts follows the statement that has Blue nearly crashing back to the ground. Jisung’s arm is quick to wind around his waist, pulling him into his side and masking the slip. The side-eye he receives from Blue is as much thanks as he’s offered.

A shrill laugh comes from the gravel, where Hyunjin still sits sprawled out, red material of the dress fanned out around his thighs. The incredulous look Chan sends him only provokes him further, joyless giggles escaping his lips. A finger points at the burning car.

“Something tells me we were meant to be in that.”

Warm liquid coats Jisung’s hand where it’s secured around Blue’s waist and he barely contains a sigh that threatens to expose his partner. The slash wound on his abdomen has been bleeding for nearly three days straight, soaking through and staining several shirts. There’s only so many jackets Blue can wear over the injury before his pain becomes public.

“Lean on me.” His breath falls over Blue’s ear, pulling him closer with a subtle tug. The older of the two shoots him a glare, not responding but clearly putting up a sort of protest. “I’ll shift so it looks natural, just lean on me before blood starts coating the concrete.”

Seeming to abandon his fight, Blue tips his weight into Jisung’s side, his arm looping around his shoulder for support. The grip on his waist tightens in order to support them both, but the blood isn’t coming out in waterfalls now. The minute they’re alone, Jisung will be having some serious questions about his clear negligence of the wound.

Wandering eyes—specifically Changbin’s— don't miss their shift in position and an eyebrow is raised in response. There’s a contemplation in his head, evident by the crease on his forehead. 

“Since when are you two so close?” The inquiry catches the attention of both Chan and Hyunjin as well, all three of them staring as Jisung attempts to pass it off. A scoff comes from Blue.

“He’s in love with me, can’t you tell?” 

With a long and heavy sigh, Chan passes a set of keys to Blue. The car behind them is still burning away, likely to explode again in any minute as the fire makes its way to the gas. Chan points to a car at the other end of the parking lot.

“Take that one tonight, we’ll deal with this. You can’t afford to miss this interaction.” 

Blue nods once, freeing himself from Jisung’s grip and walking—on somewhat shaky legs— to the car at the end of the lot. Jisung follows after him with a curt nod of his own to the leaders, jogging to catch up with his partner.

“When was the last time you changed your bandage?” Keeping his voice low, Jisung busies himself with the zipper of his jacket. Blue doesn’t glance at him. 

“I took it off the next morning when I left.”

“So, what? You’ve just been free-bleeding this whole time?” He struggles to keep his volume down, earning a sharp glare from the older. Blue unlocks the car and slides in, Jisung doing the same on the other side.

“No. I sewed myself up with some thread and a needle I found at home.” In the rear view mirror, Chan pulls Hyunjin up from the ground, dusting off his shoulders, “The faux stitches ripped at Mark’s.”

“And what have you been applying since then?”

“Aloe vera.”

“To an open wound?”

Hyunjin begins skipping over to their new ride, his presence effectively severing their conversation. The back door opens and he climbs in with a quiet huff.

Blue starts the engine immediately, backing out of the spot and driving past where Chan and Changbin watch them exit. The blaze seems brighter now, almost blinding as they speed past, back onto the road and toward the inner city. 

“So,” Hyunjin twists his knife around his finger, “where we going?”

The rear view mirror gives perfect vision into the back seat, where Blue can see Hyunjin relaxed in the middle of the leather, lacking a seatbelt. He sighs and continues merging onto the interstate, pulling his cap down lower.

“The commissioner has a meeting tonight.” His voice is barely above a mumble, but easy for Jisung to decipher. He hums, eyes focused on the traffic that seems to just float right by. 

“I’m assuming it’s with our good pals?” 

“Yeah. Specifically, it’s with George Fleming.” 

Their eyes lock as Blue finishes his sentence. Just this morning, Blue revealed his partnership with Fleming to Chan, but the news hadn’t yet reached the others like the one in their backseat. Chan wasn’t exactly elated to find out, and especially to be the second one to do so, but he understood and kept his lecturing to the barest minimum.

“I get the feeling I’m missing something here.” Hyunjin’s head pokes through the space between their seats, his hand gripping the backs. Blue ignores him, as he usually does.

“You’re not missing anything.” Jisung covers for the both of them, “We just have some interesting information about Fleming.”

“I like interesting.” The insistence for knowledge is strong in his tone. Jisung is almost afraid to deny him such a clear request.

“He wants out.” Blue cuts in, saving Jisung from having his face scarred to bits, “He’s searching for a way to leave the Aces. Happy now?”

“Extremely.”

All three of them stop their conversation when they drive into the inner city, the welcoming sight of people flowing in and out of taxis and clubs a warm greeting. Their descent inwards is masked by the large number of expensive cars around them. They blend in nicely.

Blue takes a street to where Jisung knows the commissioner’s complex is located and he holds his breath as they pass right by it. He continues down that road, taking a left and then a right onto a road significantly less busy. They park in the shadows, concealed by the darkness and the trees surrounding them.

A few taps at his phone and Blue sets the device in the cup holder. A voice filters through and all three pairs of eyes watch as a man further up the street gets out of his car. A door slamming echoes through the phone.

“God bless Seungmin’s technology.” Blue murmurs, watching another man exit the company building they’re parked near. Gray suit hemmed at the legs and cuffed at the wrists is the only identifier they need. 

George Fleming. 

George Fleming takes each step leisurely, like he is going for a walk instead of meeting with dangerous Aces, the soles of his expensive shoes gliding over the concrete. The commissioner leans against his car, arms folded and watching on with disinterest. George greets him with a smile and an extended hand that goes ignored.

“I tried to warn you about what was going to happen.” The commissioner’s voice comes out of the device in a grainy and muffled sound, but still enough to make out every word. They watch the figures of the men closely.

“Oh, come on, Brian. Don't even try to play that game. You know you need me.” With a quick and emotionless chuckle, Fleming retracts his hand. His shorter and older body hardly matches up to the commissioner, who's lean and somewhere within his late twenties. 

“Why did you have to open your mouth, George?” The passenger side door opens and another man pokes his head out. His face is adorned in small tattoos, black clothing tight around his arms and torso. The commissioner opens the back door to his car, leaning against it. “You could’ve had it all, could’ve been one of us. What a shame. But I won’t be the one to get in the way of natural selection.” 

The second man raises his right hand, a common pistol held snug between his fingers. George Fleming raises his hands and immediately takes a few steps away from the car. His efforts for a quick negotiation go to waste when the trigger pulls and a bullet buried into his forehead. 

An audible gasp ripples through the Stray’s car as George Fleming’s body hits the pavement, blood pooling around his head and staining the pads of his suit. The driver of the commissioner’s car pulls off, leaving the body untouched in the middle of the street.

There’s a look in Blue’s eye, something Jisung has never recognized in him before. It’s fear. It’s remembrance. His chest rises and falls at a sporadic pace, hands bunched in the fabric of his jeans. Bottom lip tucked between his teeth and whiter than snow.

“Fly high, angel.” Comes Hyunjin’s manic laughter. Neither of the two men in the front pay attention to it. Blue is thinking the exact same thing Jisung is.

The Aces showed at Jisung’s apartment. They blew up the car he and Blue were supposed to drive. They killed Fleming because he talked. 

The Aces were after them and they were done being quiet about it.

+++

Yet another ride in complete silence consumes them, only this time their brains do not offer them time to contemplate their lives and the meaning of it. There is a struggle evident on Blue’s face, something further portrayed in the way he grips the steering wheel to ease his shaking fingers. No one comments on his shift, Jisung doubts Hyunjin has noticed.

Remnants of the burning vehicle are still being cleaned when they return, much earlier than expected and with queasy stomachs. Changbin takes it upon himself to usher them into the building, his arms directing them to the back office. Jisung puts his phone in the closet without being told.

An open laptop sits in front of Seungmin, his longer brown bangs pinned back with a green hair clip. There is hardly any reaction given when Hyunjin plops down in the seat next to him, slipping their hands together. Seungmin finishes his typing with one hand, pausing to look at his partner.

“You weren’t gone long.” He observes, staring only at his partner’s face. Hyunjin doesn’t reply, choosing to stare right back. “Something happened, didn’t it?” 

“Oh, you should’ve been there, Minnie.” The other responds, his free hand slipping up to comb through Seungmin’s hair in a soothing gesture. He sighs in content. “We saw a man get killed in the most anti-climatic of ways.”

Tension enters Blue’s shoulders, blinking away whatever emotion threatens to cloud his eyes. Yet again, Jisung files these observations away for a later conversation. 

Chan enters the room then, Changbin close behind and shuts the door behind him. He looks to Blue immediately.

“What happened?”

“Fleming got shot in the head for blabbing. The commissioner didn’t pull the trigger but he might as well have.” The time he uses covers him well, reveals no attachment to the death. Even if Jisung knows he has one.

“Who was the shooter?”

“Unidentified man with facial tattoos and buff arms. Could’ve been literally any shady guy you see on the street.” 

The information is given a minute to digest, Chan folding his arms in thought. His boot taps a rhythm on the floor, cheek bitten.

“I need to talk to Changbin, everybody out. We’ll discuss this in the morning. Go home.” 

“I can’t really do that.” Jisung speaks up, somewhat awkwardly. Chan furrows his eyebrows.

“Aces were combing his place earlier.” Changbin informs him slowly, like there's hidden meaning in his words. Chan blinks.

“Alright. Blue, you stay with him tonight to make sure he’s safe, the rest of you go home. I want you in bed by one.” 

Surprisingly, there is no drawn out argument or debate on Blue’s end, only a short nod and an excessive blinking from his glassy eyes. While Jisung isn’t exactly thrilled about the idea either, it gives him a chance to dress Blue’s wound again. 

“Yes, father.” Seungmin mocks their leader, but his laptop closes nevertheless. He and Hyunjin make their exit together, leaving just Blue and Jisung to gather their items and head out. Chan’s hand lands on his shoulder as he attempts to move past.

“Watch your back.” He says and Jisung doesn’t have the energy to question him. He isn’t sure he’d want the answer anyway.

He knows what it means to have the Aces after him, he’s seen what it does. Jisung knows that when they find out who he is, he’ll have to run. He just hopes that’s later down the path. 

+++

A block away from Jisung’s apartment complex, Blue slams the car in park at the front of a pastry shop that’s already closed for the night. Jisung doesn’t make an effort to question him when he shrugs on a loose jacket, the baseball cap tugged further over his face. He glances at Jisung, making a nod motion with his head as he slides out. 

Jisung follows him out, pulling his mask slightly higher above his nose to hide his own appearance. With Aces crawling around here and there, he figures hiding his identity is the safest option for a while. The car locks behind him. 

“We should take the fire escape, eliminates the risk of being seen.” Blue mutters as they jaywalk through the intersection. The look Jisung sends him is concealed behind the mask.

“No way. You’re literally bleeding out.”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think the people in New Zealand heard you.” Blue snaps, his jacket being pulled closer to his body. Watching the action with a careful gaze, Jisung stops.

“Here.” He holds out his apartment key, “You go in first. I’ll hang around and come up a few minutes after so it doesn’t look suspicious. Go through the lobby and take the elevator, the stairs are shady and there’s a kid that hangs around them that I don’t want to deal with tonight.”

Under the brim of his cap, Blue’s dark eyes still manage to strike an indistinguishable emotion in Jisung as they bore into his frame. It’s a look he receives a lot, something akin to a warning or caution. He receives it most often when he says things like this.

“I’m giving you ten minutes and if you aren't up there, I’m locking you out.” There's a hint of a smirk hidden beneath the shadow of his hat, but it shines through in Blue’s voice. Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Of my own apartment?”

“Only one of us has the key.” 

A retort is on the tip of his tongue, but it doesn’t go further before Blue is turning away and walking into the street. He disappears through the front doors of the complex and Jisung presses his back to the brick exterior of the clothing shop that sits just out of view of his apartment. 

Two minutes pass in peaceful quiet, not a soul wandering the streets and disrupting it. He decides in five minutes, he’ll follow up into the building. His fingers rest in his pocket, mindlessly twirling with the pocket knife he's recently acquired.

A car turns the corner at the other end of the street, bright headlights cascading over the side of Jisung’s profile. His eyes draw to it immediately and widen upon recognition. He ducks into the nearest alley as quickly as he’s able.

The headlights continue crawling over the asphalt of the road, closer and closer to the alleyway until they suddenly come to a stop. Inching backwards and deeper into the alley, Jisung prepares himself for the one reality he was hoping would take a little longer to catch up to him. He should’ve seen it coming.

Three seconds is all it takes for his life to flash before his eyes. A hand claps over his mouth, a car door slams and footsteps approach the alley, and in a reflexive reaction, Jisung digs the heel of his foot into the shin of the body behind him. 

The hand around his mouth releases and he uses his left upper body to slam them into the alley wall, his feet pounding against the ground as fast as he can and carrying him away from the opening. The person recovers quickly, their footsteps close behind him. Death licks at his ankles, bites at his heels, it’s grabby and cold hands swiping around his arms at every instance. 

The alley turns a corner that he nearly misses and he stumbles out of view of the commissioner’s vehicle. Unfortunately, the person behind him turns with him and a weight on his back is the only warning he gets before he’s tackled to the ground.

The darkness masks the identity of his attacker, but their body is skinnier, leaner. They’re strong but the element of surprise is their advantage. Fingernails scratch his wrist in an attempt to pin his hands to the ground, his torso squeezed between strong legs.

One of his hands shakes free, fumbling for the pocket knife and slicing without hesitation. A barely concealed scream comes from his attacker’s throat, a high-pitched and offended noise. Blood seeps down their arm where the tip of the knife hit.

He remembers a move Jeongyeon taught him, a move he has never been so grateful to know. Both of his legs swing up underneath their arms, hooking around their shoulders and pushing back as hard as he can. Their body flies backwards onto their back and he attempts to make a run for it again.

He gets six feet before a gun cocks.

“I didn’t want to play this card,” The voice is high, sounding unusually intimidating, “but you hardly seem the cooperative type.”

His hands come up with a sigh. Realistically, there should be another exit just around the next corner, he just has to wait for an opening to run. Four to one isn’t exactly a fair fight, and he doubts the Aces came alone.

“Drop your knife.” The voice instructs and he debates it silently for a few seconds before complying. It was a cheap knife, he can afford to leave it behind. 

“Anything else?” 

“No.”

“Bullshit.” They snarl, voice dropping down an octave in a way almost demeaning, “You Strays always have some little tricks up your sleeve.”

Fuck. Looks like his fantasy of sticking around a little longer is out of the question.

“I’m not a Stray.” The lie comes out as easily as any truth he's ever told. He doesn’t consider himself a skilled bluff, but he knows he isn’t exactly lacking.

“No need in lying to me, Devil. I know all about you.” The gun presses to the back of his head, the barrel pressing in just a little harder than necessary, “I know everything, Han Jisung.”

His blood turns to glaciers. He expected this, he really did, but not so soon. Realistically, the Aces would figure out that he’s the Red Devil, Blue’s partner and a Stray. Ideally, they would never find out that he's Han Jisung, brother of Yoo Jeongyeon. 

He could deny it. There is always the option to play dumb, but as good of a liar as he is, even he doesn’t think he can talk his way out of this one. They know his name and more than likely who his sister was, that in itself is already too much. If he survives this, he has no other choice but to run. 

“What do you want? If you’ve come for money, I’m afraid I’m the wrong guy, everything to my name is stolen.” That isn’t a lie. Even the items he inherited from his late sister are more than likely missing property, a little fact he’s kept to himself for a while.

“I don’t want anything from you, Han Jisung.” The gun presses harder than he thought possible against his skull, the unspoken threat shouting through his skin, “Not yet. But when I call, you’d better answer.”

His pocket moves, an item he doesn’t dare look at slipping in. It’s light, delicate. The figure retracts, as does the gun and his frozen frame waits until the footsteps are at least twenty away from him before turning around. By that time, the mystery person is gone.

His feet burn as he races down the alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator, but all he sees is an empty street. The sight in front of him is devoid of the commissioner, devoid of any life other than himself. His fingers wrap around the object in his pocket.

An Ace of Spades. The corner is bent, a single red “A” drawn underneath the fold. 

He decides in this moment that he is unbelievably and utterly fucked. 

This thought stays with him as he boards the elevator, clutching the card close to his body. He has to run. How will he get out without Blue being aware? What if he tries to hunt him down? What if he thinks he’s been kidnapped?

All of his thoughts come to a roaring halt when the elevator dings and the doors open to his floor. For a moment, he stands there, encapsulated by the safety of the moving box. He’s tempted to close the doors, to just ride the car up and down until the end of time, to forget his existence and the existence of everything else. But life would not let him go so easily, especially not his own.

Life has an iron grip on Jisung’s shoulders and for whatever reason, it refuses to release its hold.

Three knocks on his locked apartment door tempts a voice inside to scream back at him. 

“I told you ten minutes! Not my fault!” Even through the walls, he can envision his partner’s deadpan expression. His eyebrow would twitch, the only indication that he doesn’t actually want to stab Jisung even though he’s threatened plenty. His mouth would curl up just slightly at the edges, sort of like a cat, and betray absolutely no emotion in doing so. Sharp eyes would narrow in a way that can be intimidating, but is a part of his charm to Jisung.

“Can you please just let me in? It’s not exactly my fault either.” He knocks on the door again, hoping the noise will annoy his partner enough to give in. The door cracks open just a hair, the chain catching as Blue’s face pops into view.

“Who’s fault is it then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the Ace who chased me through the alleyway and pressed a gun to my head only to tell me I’m somehow indebted to them. When the fuck did I take out a loan from the Aces?” In a more casual manner than he should take on, Jisung shrugs his shoulders with all the nonchalance of someone who encounters this sort of thing daily. It isn’t there yet, but he’s willing to bet it’ll get there eventually.

“What the fuck.” The door slams in his face.

The chain rattles and the door is swung open once again. Blue is leaned up against the wall, one hand pressed into his side that seems to be gushing blood by the minute. He must have torn whatever makeshift stitches all the way open.

The door locks behind Jisung when he enters, moving for the first aid kit yet again. Blue says nothing when he crouches on the floor of the bathroom, opting to just sit on the toilet like last time. Jisung pulls out all he needs to reapply bandages, his thoughts not slowing down for even a second.

“I have to leave town. Immediately. I thought I should tell you before you do something stupid like look for me.” The bandages feel rougher in his hands than they did the first time. 

“When?” The tone of Blue's voice is unreadable. 

“As soon as possible. Probably tonight.” Attempting to push away his thoughts of doubt, he grabs for the ointment and the surgical tape. He needs a distraction right now, even if it comes in the form of patching up a man he is only ninety-percent sure won’t kill him.

“For how long?” 

Here, he hesitates. Yet again, he debates lying. He could even tell a half-truth, just enough to get him out of the way of suspicion. But if Blue thinks he’s coming back, then he’ll definitely look for him when he doesn’t.

“Forever, Blue.” He inhales deeply, trying to keep the itch that’s crawling up his throat from staining his words, “I can’t stay here any longer. They know too much about—about me.”

He catches himself at the last moment, saving them another long conversation he isn’t sure he can deal with. There’s many things he doesn’t know about his partner, many things he doesn’t understand. Jisung isn’t sure he wants to understand what’s in his desk drawer.

“Why?” This time, his partner sounds on the edge of anger and disbelief, the first real emotion he’s shown in the entire conversation. Jisung doesn’t risk the glance up to read his expression.

Without replying, he intends to drop the subject when he reaches for the hem of Blue’s shirt. Blood has soaked all the way through the dark material, the cut itself black and swollen. He takes his time in cleaning off the wound, using it as his escape. But much like life itself, Blue doesn’t let him go so easily. 

“What did they know?” At his noise of confusion, Blue continues, “The Ace who chased you through the alley, what did they know?”

Of course, Blue put it together. He was a fool to think he wouldn’t. However, he knows he can’t be as honest as he would like to be.

“It doesn’t matter.” The thread comes out without much problem, dried blood clotted around the strand. He cringes at the open wound in Blue’s skin. 

“Don’t pull that shit with me.” Blue’s tone is harsh, the edges stained with hostility and annoyance. “What was it? You piss them off or something?” 

“No, it’s—“ Jisung stops himself yet again before saying too much, “Look, I have to go. I can't stay. It isn’t safe.”

The scoff that rips out of Blue is enough to make him stop. Dark eyes glance up at his partner’s scowl, lips tugged into a frown.

“It’s perfectly safe. You just want to run, like a coward.”

For some reason he can’t name, that strikes a nerve. It wasn’t something he heard often or anything, but after everything he’s done, he is anything but a coward. Blue may be braver than him but even his bravery is measurable.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He seethes, fighting back the urge to leave him bleeding out in the bathroom, “I’ve been running for six years. This time a city five miles away won't cut it.”

“And what's your reasoning other than cowardice?” Blue’s voice raises in volume, staring down into Jisung’s soul, “Why must you leave when there’s so many other options here for you?”

“Because of my sister!” He snaps, feeling the tight-stretched cord inside break in half, “She protected me until what was probably her last breath, I can't let her pain be for nothing!” 

The silence that falls over the bathroom is thick with regret. Jisung’s hands shake in his lap, his heart clenching. He can’t let her down, he can’t let all those years of suffering be for absolutely nothing. Blue takes a deep breath and Jisung braces himself for what's next.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, that’s not what you keep me around for.” His voice is softer this time, a dash of sympathy making its way through his words, “What happened to your sister was cruel and though I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you, it can’t keep controlling you like this.

“Look at you. You’re practically vibrating at even the mention of her. You joined a gang for what—for revenge? You’re obsessed with the Aces and these kids who are running. Is your only reason to live a wish for vengeance?”

“I want to make her proud of me.” The words slip out before his brain even registers them. Though he refuses to cry, he can feel the dread pool in his stomach, the fear and anguish he’s hidden away behind fake names and lame jokes winding around his lungs and heart. There’s a hole in it where she used to be, an emptiness he can never fill.

He wants nothing more than to flop down on her bed the way he did when he was twelve, hear her giggling at him. He wants to tell her everything that’s wrong, everything that’s been wrong and say it all knowing that she’s listening to every word. He wants her arms around his shoulders, telling him it’ll be alright and offering ice cream. He wants the impossible. 

“She would be.” His partner says in a whisper. 

“No, she wouldn’t.” Jisung laughs bitterly, his trembling hands curling into fists and his breathing beginning to even, “I joined a gang. I provoked the Aces and made myself their target, I did everything she told me not to do. No offense, but my partner’s a former Ace on top of it all. God, Jeongyeon would hate to see what I’ve done to myself.”

He shakes the thought from his brain, choosing to focus on threading a new thread through the needle. The anti-inflammatory seems to be working, as does the numbing cream. The rag is soaked in blood, covered in every inch in red. 

“Who?” Comes Blue’s inquiry and Jisung takes a moment to recall their conversation. He sours when he realizes exactly what’s being asked. He said her name.

“Nothing.” He murmurs, that sinking feeling in his stomach only growing bigger. Swallowing the urge to vomit, he focuses on Blue’s wound and cleaning it properly. He can’t think about her right now.

“Jisung.” Blue’s hand winds around his wrist, ceasing his movements and staring down at him with eyes as wide as quarters. “ _Who_ are you talking about?”

“My sister.” He says simply, silently pleading Blue to just drop it, to forget about Jisung’s slip-up. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, not now and not ever.

“Jisung.” This time, his name leaves Blue’s lips as a faint whisper, barely audible. For the first time, there’s a crack in his unreadable façade, a break in the wall that stores his emotion. He looks panicked, he looks in disbelief. “Your sister’s name is Jeongyeon?”

A shaky exhale escapes his lungs. Hearing her name spoken aloud, especially by someone else, makes his heart stop. Every day, he avoids her name like the plague, not because he wants to forget her, but because the thoughts are too painful. It’s been too hard to stomach the possibility that she gave her life to protect him, that the one person he would give up everything for did exactly that for him.

“She…” Blue blinks slowly at Jisung, as if fragments of memories were clicking together in his mind, “Yoo Jeongyeon.”

“Everything she ever did was for me.” A lump forms in his throat as he squeezes the words past. The tears that well in his eyes are long-coming but it hurts no less knowing they’ve been there for a while. “I can’t get over it. I can’t stop blaming myself for what she did for me. It should’ve been me.”

The knife in his chest twists with every syllable spoken, the shaking in his hands only growing stronger and more uncontrollable. Memories of her flood back in his mind, memories that he’s buried in the deepest corners in hopes of never having to think about it again. She never stopped fighting for him, probably up until her last breath, and for that, he will never forgive himself.

“I—“ Blue’s voice cracks, his hand reaching for Jisung’s shoulder. “I know her. Jisung, I know her.”

“I know.”

The hand on his shoulder freezes. Jisung hangs his head, tears rolling down both cheeks and choking on his sobs. He won’t let this be the moment he breaks. 

The pesky thing about the truth is that it always comes out somehow. 

Jisung wordlessly stands, his feet directing him to his bedside table, where trembling fingers pull out a singular photograph. It sits delicately in between his index finger and thumb, deep breathes guiding him back to where Blue is still sitting in the bathroom. The frown on his face is deep and questioning. Jisung throws the picture in his lap.

“Do you remember when Chaeryeong sent me photos of you and George Fleming meeting? Do you remember what I said about my sister?” Jisung keeps his voice level, even though the strain makes it want to collapse. He wants to run right now, to take off and never look back, but his feet are aching from running so long.

“You said I could tell you the exact place of her body.” Blue gulps, his thumb brushing the edge of the photo in his lap. “This is why you were so angry at me, wasn't it?”

“What do you fucking think?” Jisung snaps, unable to hold the poison off his tongue. His finger jabs at the picture, “You knew her. You knew my sister, Blue. I’ve known this whole time, but I didn’t want to believe it. I needed there to be a reason to trust you, so I pretended I didn’t know.”

The photo in Blue’s lap in clear as day, faces undeniable. It’s dated at the bottom left corner. Six years ago, in October, the photo taken displays a then nineteen-year-old Blue, speaking with a then twenty-one year old Jeongyeon. They’re both looking directly at each other, hands interlocked in a handshake and smirks on their faces as if greeting old friends.

The photo in question has haunted Jisung ever since he received it. 

“How did you…” 

“Chaeryeong was Jeongyeon’s PI before she was mine. She looked through her records when she found out who I was working with, and what do you know?” A bitter laugh rips out of Jisung’s chest. Blue stares at the photo in silence, his fingertips carefully tracing his and Jeongyeon’s depicted faces.

“We were partners.” He whispers, almost to himself, “Me, Jeongyeon and Jaebeom. We were building a rebellion.”

“A rebellion that got my sister killed.” 

“Jisung… I don’t know how to say this, but…” Blue holds up the photo, his thumb pressing directly under Jeongyeon’s face, “your sister is not dead.” 

And just like that, all the breath in Jisung’s lungs is stolen out of him. A chill runs the course of his body, fists tightening when he reaches his fingertips. Staring at Blue’s haunted face, his wide eyes that have accumulated tears and lips pulled into an expression of disbelief, he cannot find any semblance of a lie. His brain goes to war, a mixture of “he has to be lying” and “she’s really alive” floating around. 

“What are you talking about?” His words catch around the dryness of his throat, but he somehow manages to push out enough syllables to be understood. Blue bites his bottom lip, watching the photo with a concentration Jisung has never seen before. Almost as if he expects Jeongyeon to pop out of the photo.

“I was working at the Rolling Eights two years ago when Chan approached me and offered me safety. Jeongyeon was my co-worker and my partner.” He takes a pause before continuing, tears beginning to paint his cheeks in thin streaks, “She said she knew something she shouldn’t know, that the Hearts were promoting her. She told me to leave, to take Chan’s offer no matter what the cost, because things were about to get worse than I could ever imagine.” 

“And you just listened to her? Without thinking to ask what she meant by that?” So close, yet so out of reach. His sister hadn’t been dead, not for six years at least. No, she was in the Aces’ inner ranks, their most powerful. He doesn’t know whether that's better or worse than what he imagined her involvement to be. 

“I trusted her, Jisung. With my life. I don’t have to tell you this, but your sister was the strongest person I have ever known. She was ripping that gang apart from the inside when I fled.” Blue sniffles, clutching the picture tight in his hands while his tears coat his jeans. He doesn’t whimper or whine, but his pursed lips are enough noise. The man in front of Jisung is an entirely new side to the one he knows.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what she’s like.” Jisung trains his eyes on the mattress across the hall, where the queen card is tucked in the frame and hidden away from the world. “I also know how self-sacrificial she was. She told you to run because she knew something bad was going to happen to her, and she didn’t want you to see it.” 

“Your sister… She was the only person I trusted for the longest time. In a gang like the Aces, you can’t even trust your own partners. But she was different, and kind. She was the big sister I never had.” 

There’s an emotion running through Jisung, powerful and overwhelming, but unidentifiable. Something so close to relief, yet mirroring sadness in the same. All of it, he tunes out and listens to his brain and what it’s telling him.

“While it’s wonderful to know I didn’t lose her six years ago, it’s safe to say she still isn’t around anymore.” He croaks, in desperate need of water. The sentence is hard enough to say on its own, the only thought he can think. “She cared about me. She left because she thought she was going to lose her life. She cared about you in the same way, which is why she told you to leave when _she_ couldn’t. Jeongyeon protected you, just like me.”

“You think…?”

“Whatever bad thing was on the horizon, there was a reason she didn’t want you to see it. You were a literal gang member, you’ve seen death and blood before. That wasn’t what she was protecting you from.” 

“God.” Blue sobs, his head falling into his hands and gripping handfuls of short hair. Though he doesn’t allow a sound to slip out, his shoulders shake with an intensity that only matches a complete break. He’s crumbling, the realization a thousand-pounds of weight on his shoulders. Jisung knows the feeling all too well.

“I’m not going to stop until I find her.” Blue interrupts his own sobbing to gasp in shaky breaths, “I’m going to find out what happened to her, just to be sure. God, I’m so sorry, Jisung.”

“It’s okay.” Jisung is quick to reply, shocking even himself with how easily the words come out. It isn’t okay, nothing about it is okay, but it’s not Blue’s fault. “There’s a reason she trusted you. The same reason I trust you.”

Blue’s head raises, eyes red and swollen. He’s breathing through his mouth, probably trying to keep his sniffles in. Cheeks are stained with wet streaks of hot tears, Jisung feels the stickiness on his own. He’s cried so many nights that the feeling of tears on his face is a familiarity to him. 

“I’m sorry.” Blue whispers again, his breaths coming out in short pants now. Pain is so dull and harsh, so difficult to stomach. Pain is the only friend Jisung has known for more than a decade.

“I know. I trust you.” He repeats, his legs bending in front of Blue again, hands bunching in the fabric of the bandaging beneath him. “Which is why I’m going to show you something else, after I bandage you.”

A protest on the tip of Blue’s tongue dies when he attempts to lean forward, the sharp pain in his side slamming him back against the toilet. He can feel blood seeping deeper into his shirt, dying his skin with a red tint. Truthfully, his stitching job was half-assed and entirely the reason behind his excessive bleeding. 

The wound is cleaned with careful hands, not entirely practiced, but gentle. Whatever numbing cream was applied has kicked in, and there’s only a short pinch when the needle goes and pulls the thread through. Jisung works quickly, but concentrates on the smaller things. Bandages wrap around his torso several times, tight as they can be without restricting his breathing. 

Admittedly, though he won’t say it aloud, the maneuver from the bathroom isn’t as hard as it had been coming in, the pressure kept off his gash. Jisung walks him to the bedroom, laying him down flat on the side closest to the window. 

“I’m not taking the bed.” He says, glaring up at Jisung. The younger of the two rolls his eyes and strips of his jacket, using his free hand to pull the blankets up to Blue’s chin.

“Either we both take the bed, or we both take the floor. Your pick.” 

A scoff rips from Blue’s chest, but he doesn’t make a further comment. Three pillows from behind him like the middle of the bed in a straight line, a sturdy barrier between him and where Jisung will sleep. Yet again, Jisung rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“The Ace who chased me in the alley…” He begins after several minutes of silence and brief shuffling, “they gave me this.” 

A card lands on Blue’s chest, his fingers wrapping around the edge and bringing it to his face. He nearly screeches aloud when he sees the telltale sign.

“Folded corners were a thing Jeongyeon used to do when we played.” Jisung crosses his legs on the bed, tapping the corner of the card with a frown, “For a moment, I assumed it was just an Ace thing, since Mark and Bambam had them too. But now, I don’t think it’s an Ace thing, I think it’s bigger than that.”

The mattress squeaks and Blue can’t see over the barrier of pillows as Jisung leans over the frame, his hand grappling under the bed. Blue sits in silence, staring at the card. Another lands on his stomach. It’s a queen.

“It was the only thing Jeongyeon left me when she took off, besides hidden money and weapons. A few weeks ago, I seemed to have lost it, because it turned up here in my mailbox.”

“The folded corner is a mark of the rebellion.” Blue states, his eyes skimming over both the cards for any additional markings. “It was Jeongyeon’s thing, then it became a Joker thing.”

“Joker?”

“The rebels.” Blue adds, tossing the cards back to Jisung’s awaiting palms, “They’re called the Jokers.”

“Why not leave joker cards then? Why aces and queens?”

“There were levels to it. You’ve got an Ace, which means the Jokers are watching you. Did you recognize the person who jumped you?” 

“No. It was too dark to see their face, but their voice was higher pitched. I don’t want to assume they’re a girl, but it was a feminine octave.” 

Humming, Blue settles down in the bed, nuzzling the blankets that pool around his body. Jisung mirrors his position on the other side, staring blankly at the ceiling as he considers everything he’s learned tonight as a group. 

“You can’t leave.” Blue says.

“Why?”

“Because this mission needs you, this team needs you—“

“And what about you?” Jisung interrupts, not exactly hostile, but definitely with an edge to his tone, “You don’t need me for anything.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“How long have you been telling yourself that?” 

“I’m not going to lie here and spill out every problem I’ve ever had with my life.” 

“Good. I wouldn’t listen for free, anyway.”

Both let out chuckles at his reply, allowing the silence to fall back over them. There’s an obvious exhaustion from both of them, the crying and the overwhelming emotions forcing their eyes shut with every passing second. Jisung stashes the cards in between the frame and the mattress for now, reminding himself to replace them tomorrow.

“You know I can’t stand you, right?” Blue lets out a short laugh, high and genuine. It’s something rare and precious, something Jisung will hear for weeks following.

“Yeah. I consider it part of your charm.” He responds, stifling a yawn in the middle. Maybe the sleep has softened Blue’s edges a bit.

“That right there is exactly why I don’t like you.”

“I think you do like me, which is probably the exact reason you deny liking me.” 

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me into liking you?”

Jisung giggles.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“It seems to be.”

They don’t bid each other goodnight, nor do they carry on conversations. Blue won’t say it, he’ll drop dead before he does, but his actions betray his trust in his partner. 

And for now, that’s good enough.

+++

Days pass without a single thing out of the ordinary. Blue has made a habit of staying over at Jisung’s apartment during the last three nights, always with a pillow barrier and minimal deep conversations. It almost feels like a ghost floats around his apartment, sometimes seen and sometimes heard, but mostly a part of another world. The quiet phone calls and whispered aggression he overhears from the bathroom bring him back to being sixteen and pressing his ear to his sister’s bedroom door, but he tries to block it out.

Each receives a phone call from Chan at four on a Tuesday morning, requesting that they meet up at the shop by eight. Blue hangs up before the message even gets done playing, groaning as he rolls into the pillow barrier and falls back asleep. Jisung sets an alarm and does the same. 

The slash in Blue’s side has healed a little, he’s no longer bleeding and ripping open the makeshift stitches, though he has a terrible habit of forgetting to change his bandages. Having him around all the time means Jisung can change and clean them regularly, despite all of Blue’s groaning while he does so. It’s become a consistent part of their morning.

At six-thirty, Jisung shakes Blue awake and lets him shout countless profanities at him on the way to the bathroom. Carefully unwrapping the bandages, he runs a routine that is almost muscle memory. Clean, check, bandage. 

Blue collapses on the couch, still cursing Jisung’s very name as the younger heads to the kitchen. Over the last few days, he’s learned that Blue keeps a strict diet, and won’t eat anything other than an omelet or berries for breakfast, a meal he claims is the very thing he runs on. Because of this, Jisung keeps a small container of blueberries in his fridge alongside a carton of eggs, a half-gallon of milk, ham slices, an onion, and some peppers. His refrigerator is too full for his liking, too comfortable, but he convinces himself it’s only because of his new roommate. 

They eat in a comfortable silence, before both get up to change clothes. Chan left a trash bag full of Blue’s clothing at the door one night, and Jisung never questioned it. By seven-thirty, they’re leaving for the shop.

Chan is standing outside the back, leaned up against his car of the week. No trace of the exploded vehicle is left behind, only a small part of the fence that looks shinier and newer than the rest. Against the back doors, Hyunjin drapes his arms over Seungmin’s shoulders as the raven-haired man carries on a conversation with Changbin. His arm is wrapped around Hyunjin’s waist. Felix is there too, sitting cross-legged on the hood of a new car. 

Their arrival triggers something within the group and all eyes turn to them as soon as Blue’s car door closes. The gravel underneath their shoes lodges between the patterned undersides, the early morning sunrise glaring at them across the horizon. The businesses around them are just opening, attracting a crowd of office workers and interns. 

“There’s something we need to discuss.” Chan greets them with a dilemma, “But I don’t feel it’s safe to do it here. The cops have been hanging around this neighborhood the last few nights, might be bugging the place and trying to tail us.”

“So, where do we go?” Jisung speaks barely above a whisper, hyper-aware of their location now. The police must be following all of the inner seven. He’s glad he and Blue didn’t leave the apartment very much. 

“We have two sister locations and another location that is basically untouchable.” Chan’s eyes drift to Blue, who stands up a little straighter under their leader’s gaze, “Changbin isn’t comfortable bringing Jisung around the 迷い.” 

“What?” Blue scoffs, his face morphing into an expression of utter shock, “You can’t be serious.”

“Afraid so. Maybe eventually, but for now I don’t think it’s a good decision.” Chan shrugs, though it’s obvious he’s choosing his words very carefully. Jisung isn't all that surprised, he didn’t expect the entire gang to trust him blindly, but Blue seems to have a different idea.

“Jisung has been in the field for months, he’s the only reason these missions have succeeded. If you didn’t trust him enough, why send me to stay at his apartment for _three_ _days_?” 

Chan sighs, his index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s clear this is the expected result, but it isn’t the one he was hoping for. Blue’s outburst is a complete surprise to Jisung, though he files it away for a later date. Who knew Blue trusted him so much.

“Look. The mechanics shop is just as safe, and so is the bar. You don’t have to worry, our tracks are covered.” 

“I’m not concerned with safety, you know that.” Grumbling, Blue glances over Chan’s shoulder, sending a glare toward Changbin. The younger of the two doesn’t even flinch when he feels Blue’s stare, continuing his conversation with Seungmin easily. 

“Jisung,” Chan turns back to him now, “don’t take it personally. Changbin has a hard time trusting people fully, it really isn’t anything to do with you.”

“I know, I get it.” 

With a sigh and a helpless shrug, Chan retraces his steps back to his car, all conversation dying amongst them. Each of the split groups come together in a small circle around him, keeping their voices as quiet as possible. Chan clears his throat once everyone is around and hands each of them a communication device.

“We’ll head to the mechanics shop to discuss. I want to warn you that the drive there won’t be easy, cops are undercover and all around this building. Each pair will take a car, with four cars on the road, hopefully whoever they choose to follow can shake them. Due to reasons I will not explain because it is not your business,” Chan pauses to shoot a look at Hyunjin, “I recommend that Blue and Red are not the first out. The first who leaves is probably the main target.”

“I’ll do it.” Felix speaks up, his key ring twisting around his fingers, “I’m the only one without a partner, it’ll be easier.” 

“Take the longest route and the most common car we have. The faster you lose them, the better.”

Felix salutes with a smile, ducking into a white Honda Civic at the very end of the lot and pulling out through the front gate. Once he’s gone, Chan turns to Changbin, who moves without having to hear a word. He gets in the passenger’s side of the car behind Chan, pulling his mask up over his nose.

“We’ll take the left side route. Blue, you and Red leave next in yours, take the back route through the woods. Hyunjin, can I trust you to drive the right side route?” 

The brunet looks up at the mention of his name, his face twisting into a menacing grin. Fingers wrap around Seungmin’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. Seungmin pushes his glasses up his nose, leaning into his partner.

“Absolutely. Which car should you risk this time?” 

“Take whichever one you want. Seungmin, make sure he doesn’t attract too much attention and take the wheel if anything… happens.” Chan gives them both a pointed look, Hyunjin’s own eyes narrowing when they connect with the leader’s. He seems almost angered by the implication of Chan’s words, offense written between his pinched brows.

“Nothing will _happen_. Hyunjin’s perfectly capable of driving somewhere. Besides, no one is better equipped to handle something happening other than me.” Seungmin’s glare at the end of his statement says all the words left unspoken. Chan’s comment struck a nerve, though Jisung can not help but feel out of the loop as to why.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just want you both to be safe.” 

“We’ll be perfectly safe. Go, before your partner gets bored.” 

Chan nods once and climbs into his car, the other pair breaking away without saying a word to either Blue or Jisung. They walk back to the car in silence, watching patiently as Chan and Changbin pull out of the lot and into the street. Blue pulls off next, toward the back of the building and through the greenery surrounding it.

“What’s the deal with Hyunjin and Seungmin?” Jisung asks out of pure curiosity, the side of his head leaning against the cold window. A chuckle arises from Blue’s chest.

“You can ask if you want, but you won’t get an answer. The rest of us have just minded our own business regarding them.” Blue turns a corner, bringing them deeper into the woods and onto a dirt road hidden behind miles of trees. “It’s kind of like… they’re not dating but they’re not just friends either. The only thing you really need to know is that they are ridiculously devoted to each other. Don’t separate them, don’t ever think they’ll side with you over each other, and be prepared to die brutally if you hurt one of them.”

“Sounds… intense.” Jisung settles on, watching the large trees pass by as they venture deeper into the forest. “And a little confusing.”

“The way I see it, it’s not really for us to understand. Hyunjin’s a ridiculous bastard, and sometimes I do worry about how close he is the point of no return, but it isn’t his fault.” Another turn continuing the road is made, “It’s always been different with Seungmin. It works for them.” 

Small breaks in between the silence are the only noises for the remainder of the drive. The route is complicated, a series of winding roads and forks that could lead to anywhere. At one particular fork in the road, Blue drove the car to the left of both paths, cutting through the trees and hills before conjoining with a path that seemingly started out of nowhere. Jisung filed that one away for later, alongside the other directions.

A mechanics shop comes into view, just off the highway and drowned out by several fast food places and markets. The “E” in the sign reading “10 Minute Oil Change” is rotting and near falling off, the whiter letters next to it not in much better shape. Felix’s car is parked at the burger restaurant one lot over. Blue follows his lead and parks at a Mini-Mart about three lots away from the shop.

On the outside, the mechanics shop looks nothing out of the ordinary. Three marked places for cars to park on either side, one for oil and one for maintenance. It’s two stories, but the top level’s few windows are all darkened past what the naked eye can see. Blue lets them in through the garage on one side. 

The upstairs is an open space, light with yellow lights and an overhead ceiling fan. There’s a lone couch in the very center of the room, sort of out of place. Felix is draped over it, phone in hand and typing out a message. Tables surround the rest of the space, filled with gadgets and pieces of machinery that Jisung can’t name. There’s two doors in the very back of the room, one bathroom and one small office room.

“You took the longest route, how did you get here before us?” Blue settles on the edge of one of the least cluttered tables, toying with a gadget that spins around. He promptly lets it clatter to the floor.

“I know a few shortcuts.” Felix replies, not even glancing up at the two of them. 

“You shake the pig?” 

Felix rolls his eyes, letting the phone fall onto his chest. His face is split into a smile, as if Blue’s question is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Nah. I led them straight here where everybody would be because I’m just such a good friend and spy.” He snorts, picking the phone up again and typing something else out, “I should be back at the bar come Friday.”

“You didn’t find anything?” Blue crosses his legs under him, sitting on the table with his full weight now. Felix shakes his head in response, sighing defeatedly.

“Total bust. If anybody knew anything, they sure as hell were not squealing to me. It’s bullshit, I’m the least known out of the inner seven, yet they still smelled Stray on me.” 

“You're the least recognizable, not the least known.” Blue corrects him, “They wouldn't talk because they know your name, not your face. I’m sure Chan will find a way to pry the information from them regardless.” 

Speaking of the devil, Chan and Changbin stroll in next, hats pulled low and masks pulled high. Their disguises land on one of the tables as they walk in, breathing sighs of relief when they’re finally secure.

“Hyunjin and Seungmin are on their way up, I passed them in the parking lot.” Chan rolls out his neck, sighing when Changbin’s hand comes up to the back of it and massages. It’s no secret to most that the two are closer than normal, but nobody dares question the extent of that.

“In the meantime, we wait.” Chan locks eyes with Blue, who stares back unaffected by his expression, “Blue.”

Chan nods to a corner and the agent says nothing when he climbs off the table and follows him to the back office. As if on autopilot, Jisung follows too. A hand is held up in his direction, Chan giving him a small and apologetic smile.

“Jisung, it’s nothing about the missions. You don’t need to come over here.”

“Is it about my partner?” He asks before he can bite his tongue. It’s a stupid question, but one he feels compelled to ask, especially with the events of the last few days. Chan nods.

“Well then, I need to come over. If it’s about my partner, I want to know too.” He continues advancing forward, stopping right beside where Blue has turned his back to the rest of the room. Jisung hesitates, a clear message displayed in the act. He’ll leave, if Blue asks him to.

“You alright with him listening?” Chan directs the question at Blue.

“He’s fine. Continue.” At his affirmation, Jisung shifts closer. Chan takes a deep breath, biting his lip in the process. His nails are chipped and fingertips cut from paper, he’s been stressed. 

“The police are reopening your case.” He says all in one breath, a short wince coming out as soon as the words leave his lips. Blue stiffens, his entire body going as still as a statute. 

“What? Why?” The questions come out strained, through gritted teeth. His hands curl into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. His shoulders shake with every breath he inhales. That fear is back in his eyes, the same emotion Jisung saw the night of George Fleming’s murder.

“A man matching _his_ description was being tailed for a while. He went missing a couple of days ago from his apartment complex. Landlord reported it when he hadn’t been seen for about a week.” 

“Which complex?” Jisung interrupts. A wave of anxiety rushes through him, that sinking feeling in his stomach climbing up his throat. He can’t help but feel like something is terribly wrong.

“Westhaven.” Chan mutters. The dread is released, Jisung’s body running cold and tense. He doesn’t know what drops faster, his heart or his stomach.

“That’s… that’s my building.” 

“I know.”

“You think it was the same night the Aces came for Red?” The inquiry makes Jisung shiver, the thought of the Aces crawling around his building still haunts him at night. He’s only reassured by the presence of another in his home, but he knows that won’t last forever.

“I think the Aces were never there for Red.” Chan bites his lip again, worrying the thin skin with his upper teeth, “They were there for this guy.”

“Who may or may not be _him_?”

“Correct.”

The heels of Blue’s hands dig into his eyes, a king and heavy sigh escaping him. The last few days exhaustion shows all over his face, the addition of another problem will surely take a toll on him. Jisung can only hope he doesn’t break.

“Are you taking us out of the field?” His voice is softer, but no less powerful. He’s frustrated, beyond so.

“Not officially, no. Just lay low for a while.” 

The arrival of Hyunjin and Seungmin snaps Chan from his daze, and he immediately excuses himself to take the center of the room. Blue lets out a shaky breath and composes himself, turning to Jisung who looks on in worry.

“I’ll explain later.” He mumbles.

Back in the middle of the room, Hyunjin and Seungmin have curled up on one side of the couch, Felix hanging upside down on the other end. Changbin stands against the wall, watching Chan mess with the computer he opened intently. 

“Woah, Blue.” Hyunjin barks a laugh, his arms wrapped around Seungmin’s middle, “What kind of activities have you been up to? You get your ass beaten by a wild animal?” 

Blue blinks at him slowly, bored and unamused. Hyunjin continues smiling as if he doesn’t see the expression, tugging Seungmin closer. The boy in glasses doesn’t mind and wraps his arm tighter around Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” Blue gives in, sitting on the table yet again. Hyunjin laughs again.

“The blood stains on your shirt? You didn’t think we wouldn’t notice, did you?” At Blue’s bewildered face, Hyunjin tsks, “Silly little Blue’s Clues. Always underestimating me, aren't you? You’ll learn not to do that one day.”

The eyes of the room all lock in on Blue at once, his barely controlled panic making Jisung tense yet again. Up until now, his injury and the Ace attack has been kept a secret, though Jisung isn’t sure why. One second, Blue’s face is a wall of silent and concealed horror, the next, it’s painted with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t think you want to know what _activities_ I’ve gotten up to.” He chuckles, low in the back of his throat, sending a wink to Hyunjin. “Maybe I like things rough.”

Hyunjin is on his feet in a split second and for a moment, Jisung thinks he might charge at his partner. Instead, Hyunjin points his finger accusingly, like a small child telling on their sibling.

“Horny!” He yells and then his shoe is flying at Blue’s face. Jisung didn’t even see him take it off. Blue ducks as it flies past his head, crashing into the wall behind them. The look he sends Jisung is incredulous, disbelieving. 

Hyunjin settles back down a second later, wrapped around his partner yet again. His socked foot hangs off the edge of the couch, the other one tucked underneath him. Blue glances at Chan, who just gives a single shrug.

“Anyways.” Their leader clasps his hands together, all other conversation around them dying down. “I’m going to cover a few things really quickly. The cops have been tailing us, I have reason to believe the recent murder of an Ace has something to do with that. For that reason, I advise you to all watch yourselves and lay low. Felix, you will be rejoining Hyunjin at the bar on Friday. Blue, I’m thinking it’ll be safe to send you back next Wednesday.

“I sent Felix on a private mission near the docks to try and feel around, but we came up empty. Whatever the Aces are doing, they’re moving quietly and it’s only a matter of time before things begin to take a turn for the worst. With the recent kidnapping near the complex, I want Blue to stay with Jisung for a little longer. I don’t know for how long, but right now, our priority is keeping the seven of us safe.”

“Stay in groups of two or three.” Changbin adds, his voice rougher and more commanding than usual, “If the kidnapping incident has anything to do with us, I want to make it as hard as possible for them to get us quietly. Felix, with your recent return, you're on lockdown until Friday. Hyunjin, you are too just to make sure Felix has someone. Seungmin and Chan will be here most often and I’ll be at the video shop to keep things moving there. All good?”

“All good.” They each echo, an uncomfortable mood settling around them. The Aces activity burns all of their brains and even with the high skill set of their team, their inner ring has to be smaller than the Aces. Their outer rings are large, almost comparable to the Aces in size, but the inner rings are what counts. It’s evident that each of them fear going head to head with the bosses.

“One more thing.” Felix sits upright, swinging his legs over Hyunjin’s head, “Seungmin, I need you to pimp out this phone for me. I met a guy at the docks who seemed a little rouge, he asked for my number and I said I’d text him when I fixed my phone. I think he could know something.” 

“Good call, Lix. If that’s all you’re free to go or hang out here.” Chan dismisses them with a wave of his hand, slipping into the back office room with Changbin in tow.

For some reason, the sinking feeling of dread continues to pull at Jisung from the inside and he can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

+++

Upon returning home at ten in the evening, Jisung discovers that he does not have enough ingredients to make any of the one dinner meals Blue will eat. He sighs as he closes the refrigerator, his partner laid out on the couch and flipping through channels on the TV, head lolled to the side and hanging off. 

“I’m going to run to the store on the next block. I’ll only be about ten minutes.” Jisung announces, grabbing his keys and his phone. He slips the device into his front jacket pocket, shifting it around so it doesn’t fall.

“What are you getting?” Blue asks, clicking on a baking competition show and setting the remote on the shitty coffee table that adorns the room. 

“Just some more noodles and meat.” He says, his feet slipping into his shoes, “Like I said, I’ll be about ten.” 

“Want me to come with you?” 

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” 

The apartment door locks behind him, his feet carrying him to the elevator. The peaceful minute inside is broken all too soon when the doors open, revealing the pouring rain just outside the lobby. He sneaks a peak in the mailroom, half-expecting to see Jeongin waiting for him. 

But the younger one is nowhere to be found.

Against his better judgement, he opts to take the alleyway shortcut, rushing through it as quickly as he can. His hood does little to block the rain, the squeaking of his shoes hardly masking his presence. 

The corner store isn’t busy at this time, most people have gone home to return to their beds before starting all over again tomorrow, and he buys what he needs quickly. At the counter, he slips a chocolate candy bar into the bag, hopefully Blue will like that, and back outside he is greeted by the rain once again. The alleyway seems shorter this time when he goes through, his apartment building in sight when that sinking feeling in his stomach intensifies. He stops, listens.

Shuffling comes from behind him, and he stands as still as he can bare as it gets closer and closer. At the last possible second, he turns around, the bag swinging in the direction of what he expects to be his attacker. Instead, it’s a familiar face staring back at him, blinking.

“Oh shit, it’s you.” He breathes, hand grasping at his chest, though the dreadful feeling doesn’t go away. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m sorry.” Is all he hears before the street lamps catch the glare of a pistol in the person’s hand and a gunshot slices through the peaceful rainy night.

+++

It’s been fifteen minutes.

It’s been fifteen minutes and Jisung hasn’t returned to the apartment yet. Blue knows he shouldn’t be concerned, it’s not as if he’s gone missing, but it doesn’t feel right. He felt it the minute the door closed behind his partner that something simply did not feel right. He feels crazy, fingers wrapped around strands of his hair and tugging.

It’s irrational, he tells himself. Jisung is perfectly capable of handling himself, he’s perfectly capable of being left alone for fifteen minutes. This is all because of the Joker that chased him. Surely, he’s just paranoid.

Sixteen minutes. Maybe there was a line at the store, maybe he just got held up at the crosswalk. Maybe—

His thoughts are silenced by the piercing ring of his cell phone. Blue abandons all restless pacing and dives for the couch, feeling his stitches rip in the process. Oh well, Jisung can scold him about that later.

His hands grip at the couch as the ringing gets louder, fumbling fingers unable to locate the device. Blankets are shaken one by one until the phone falls onto the floor with a thump. At the last possible second, he answers the call.

“Jisung?” He's aware of how pathetic and panicked he sounds, but the anxiety rising in him when he’s met with silence does nothing to help it. He repeats his partner’s name, waiting for a laugh or a lame joke or _anything_ to ease his nerves.

All he gets is heavy breathing in response. 

The line goes dead.

Something is wrong. 

Blue stumbles out of the apartment, his side leaking blood down to his hips and dyeing his pants as well as the rest of his clothes. He leaves the apartment unlocked, having no other choice but to run down the hall. He calls the elevator, which takes a beat too long and he abandons it for the stairs, taking two at a time. A woman at the front desk stares at him curiously when he runs past, clutching his side and panting. 

The rain outside is too heavy to see anything clearly, pouring down harder and faster than any rain he's ever seen before. Across the street, he can make out an unusual shape and the soles of his shoes are pounding against the asphalt before he can think twice about it. He knows immediately when water begins to give way into blood.

Jisung is lying on his back, eyes closed and hand limply pressed against right side. He’s covered in his own blood and Blue can feel the sob rip out of him before he feels the tears running down his face. 

The world around him stops. He can’t hear the rain anymore, he can’t hear anything other than the sound of his own rapid heartbeat in his ears. He doesn’t think, doesn’t know what to think or how to process anything. His hands move on their own, tearing off his jacket and pressing it to the wound, the other winding underneath Jisung’s head and pulling him off the street. 

There’s a faint heartbeat, but his breathing has slowed to almost nothing. 

Blue doesn’t even remember picking up Jisung’s phone and calling someone until he hears the voice in his ear telling him to stay calm. His own voice sounds muffled, like background noise and static. He can’t feel his hands, why can’t he feel his fucking hands?

“Please.” He hears himself plead, to whom he doesn’t know, “Please, no. Please don’t do this, you can’t leave me too.”

His sobs are drowned out by the pouring rain and the feeling of helplessness curling in his gut. Jisung’s hand falls from his midsection and Blue is able to regain a piece of himself for only a moment when he sees what is clutched in Jisung’s hand.

A bloodied Joker with a bent corner. 

The card’s material feels foreign, a weight on his skin that he can barely feel. The front of the card is normal, but the back isn’t. No, the back diminishes any thoughts of this being an accident, any pleads for this have been anything but a hit. The message on the back is for him and his stomach sinks the second the words are read. How could he have ever been this stupid?

_You promised._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this part or this story in general, be sure to leave Kudos and share your comments and theories below! I have two more parts to complete, both of which I cannot wait to share with you! My twitter is Hanjisungsslut, curiouscat is hansbian and I hope you all have a lovely day and for the love of god please sleep if you stayed up to read this. Y’all tend to do that.

**Author's Note:**

> One more thing before you go! Comments are super duper appreciated and I need Beta readers for the next part! If you are interested in reading for me, hop on over to twitter. My user is hanjisungsslut, my display name is a bit concerning but it is also a joke. Don't be a stranger!


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